


Unraveled

by anonymousheroine



Series: A Thief's End [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Abduction, Age Difference, Alternative Universe - FBI, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Boss/Employee Relationship, Crime Fighting, Crime Scenes, Crimes & Criminals, Drowning, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Love/Hate, Miscarriage, Moral Ambiguity, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original Character(s), Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prison, Psychological Trauma, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26033755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousheroine/pseuds/anonymousheroine
Summary: After everything you've been through, all you want is a couple days of rest before going back to work at the B.A.U. However, you're suddenly hit with a request from a friend, an off the books case. Now, you're torn. Could this secret tear you and Hotch apart? And…is it for the better?Sequel to my fic, Entangled!
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Series: A Thief's End [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889725
Comments: 51
Kudos: 67





	1. Morning Sun

**Author's Note:**

> “Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides.”  
> ― André Malraux
> 
> This fic takes place sometime in Season 4 (aka where I currently am in the show!) so just keep that in mind ~ it is a continuation of my other fic, Entangled. I heavily suggest reading it before you dive into this one since the events of the previous fic are highly referenced! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Rape/Sexual Assault Mention, Moral Ambiguity

Even wonder what it feels like to lay next to the man who has been keeping you up all night? 

It's…pretty fantastic, considering how out of breath you are. 

"You should go to sleep," you turn to Hotch, chuckling as you stare right into his eyes. 

He shakes his head, his eyes looking deeply into yours, his hands roaming down your naked body, replying, "how can I sleep when you're next to me?"

"Should I leave then?" You ask, reaching up to touch his cheek, feeling his smooth, freshly shaven face. 

"Stay," he breathes out, before leaning in to kiss you for what feels like the millionth time today. 

"You have work in the morning," you say against his lips, though you don't dare to stop kissing him. 

"A little extra coffee won't hurt," Hotch leans you onto your back, his body making its way on top of yours again.

"How many times are you going to do this tonight?" You ask, feeling him kiss your skin. 

"As many times as I can," he sighs against your stomach, his lips against the bruises that have formed on your skin. 

With every kiss, the memories of your painful beating slowly fade away. 

At first, you were scared to close your eyes. All you could see was the man who held you captive, beating the life out of you for a crime you didn't commit. 

Now, when your eyes close, you're overwhelmed by the feeling of Hotch, his hands sliding up your sides, his mouth tickling your stomach. 

The comfort is like nothing you've ever experienced before. He makes you feel so safe in his arms. 

Safe enough to ask, "do you think we can make it work?" 

Hotch looks up from his kisses, his eyes meeting yours again, "make what work?"

"Us," you say aloud something you never thought you ever could, "do you think…"

Without saying a word, he comes back up, his bare body pressed up against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist. Then, he responds, "I don't think I'm the best person to ask, though I guess we've both had our fair share of failed relationships."

You roll your eyes at him, saying, "is this _really_ a good time to make a joke?" 

Hotch smiles at his own joke, before saying truthfully, "I want to at least try, Y/N. The way I feel about you, it's…unlike anything I've ever felt before."

You reach up again, but instead this time, you pull him towards you, pressing your forehead against his, telling him, "I want to try too, but…I'm afraid. I don't want to lose you, _or my job_. You know, it's bad practice to fuck your boss." 

It's Hotch's turn to roll his eyes at your joke and then answers, "no matter what happens between us, you'll always have this team. What we have will stay between us, whether we stay together or we decide to end things. It won't affect our work together."

"Are you sure about that?" You ask, looking him up and down, "if I remember correctly, while we were working, someone got _very_ jealous that I considered bringing a man into my hotel room-"

"You were on a job, Y/N," Hotch replies sternly and you bite your lip. 

"I've fucked on the job before," you poke at him with your words. 

"Only me," his expression turns into a low glare. 

"Is that what you think?" You tease him, though he looks at you as if he believes you're serious.

So, you decide to have a little fun. 

Hopefully you'll regret it…

You lean in, whispering, "what do you think I did in LA for a week?" 

"You wouldn't," Hotch glares back at you but you only reply with a mischievous grin. 

"Why else would I stay?" You breathe against his lips, "I was following up, with something I had already started on the job…" 

Suddenly, his hand grabs a hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head and you hold back every instinct to smirk at him as he exclaims, "you just want me to punish you, don't you?" 

"Shouldn't you be asking yourself that? You just love punishing me, don't you, _Aaron?_ " You let his name roll off your tongue and that's all it takes for him to go absolutely mental. 

"You're lucky you're not working tomorrow," he says, his eyes staring daggers into yours, "because you won't even be able to get out of bed when I'm done with you." 

"I sure hope so," you give him a sly wink before his lips fall right against yours, kissing you with a hot passion you're surprised he still has at two in the morning. 

Hotch's free hand roams your skin, down your sides and up your thighs, making you moan against his lips as he grazes your core. You feel him take the time to rub agonizingly slow, small circles around your clit. Your hips grind against his hand, wanting more, but his body holds you captive, unable to move. 

He has you in his grasp and he isn't letting go. 

"I take it back," you tell him, his eyes coming back to glare at you once again, "I don't think it's going to work out between us."

"And why do you say that?" He asks, his fingers refusing to stop their tantalizing treatment. 

"You're having too much fun and I can't have that," you reply, a gasp leaving your lips as one of his fingers slides into you. 

Hotch leans in, his warm breath tickling your ear as he says, "the fun's barely begun." 

His finger curls inside of you and you arch your back, wanting more, but he refuses to let up. He just continues his steady pressure, his calm circles, his calculated curls. 

Hotch is giving you a lot to think about while he's at work… 

Your breaths grow heavier by the minute. Time melts away. You have no idea how long he's been doing this for but you feel your orgasm building. It's so…different. Every time you think you're close, he slows down, stopping you from reaching it. 

Your body protests, shaking, _begging_ , but he just simply shakes his head, his fierce eyes holding you in his glance. 

You can feel your skin flush, your cheeks red, the stimulation overwhelming you, as you say through heavy breaths, "I really hate you." 

"Do you?" He curls his finger, rubbing right where you want him to, making you bite your lip, not wanting to give him that moan he's trying to dig out of you. 

Hotch continues digging and you can't stop yourself from sighing with pleasure at the feeling, but when you think he's finally going to let you climax, he stops again and you whimper. 

"Just let me cum already," you plead, swallowing your pride, "I can't take it anymore." 

"Did you beg him to let you cum too?" Hotch asks, his hand stopping completely now, his finger threatening to pull out. You tug at your hands, wanting to stop him from moving away, but his hands have you captive.

You have no other choice but to admit the truth. 

"There is no 'him'," you confess, "I've only fucked you, I swear." 

"Now, that's what I wanted to hear," he says with a smirk, "I'm the only one you want to fuck, right? Tell me I'm right." 

"You're right," you submit, nodding your head. "You're the only one." 

"And that means…" Hotch leans forward, his body pressed against yours, as he says onto your bare skin, "I'm the only one who can make you cum like this." 

One second, you're nowhere close. The next, you've completely unraveled in his arms. Your eyes roll back, your back arches and the sound of his name leaving your lips echoes through the night as he finally gives you the release you've been wanting. 

When he lets go of your hands, you immediately clutch onto him, holding him tightly, the feelings of pleasure still riding over you. 

Hotch takes this time to line himself up at your core and right as you're back from your high, he thrusts into you, filling you to the brim. You grab a hold of his hips, not expecting him inside of you again so soon, but you're unable to stop him from pulling out and slamming right back into you, making you gasp.

"You're-how do you keep doing this?" You grip his shoulders as he continues fucking you roughly, "I thought men your age die out down there." 

"You're just asking to be punished now," Hotch slips out of you completely, but not before purposefully slowing down right as he's about to pull out, prompting that whimper he knows will leave your lips every time. 

Then, he flips you over, pulling you onto your knees, before taking your hips and lining them back up against his. 

With your face in your pillow, muffling your moans, Hotch slams into you from behind. You claw at the sheets to steady yourself but he's merciless with his pacing this time, filling you to the core with every thrust. 

At the angle he's fucking you, you can barely hold yourself up, if not for his hands keeping you right where he wants you. 

Before Hotch, you don't think you could've ever cum from penetration alone, but the way he curves inside of you, rubbing against you perfectly, you can't help but climax against him, biting the pillow to stop yourself from waking the neighborhood. 

After one more orgasm and a few grunts, Hotch fills you up and you drown in the feeling of it. How many times has he done that tonight? 

He pulls out of you and before you can do anything, he lays down by your side, pulling you in for a kiss, pressing his warm body against yours. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck, not wanting his lips to leave yours. 

Hotch lets go of your lips for just a moment to say, "if you ever lie to me again…"

You smile, leaning forward to kiss him gently, before replying, "I can't wait to see what you'd do to me." 

He shakes his head but he shares your smile, pulling you back in for a kiss. You both kiss until you fall asleep in each other's arms.

It's the first time you and Hotch have ever held each other to sleep. It's peaceful and warm. 

You hoped that the days could stay like this, but things never go as planned, do they? 

"It's going to be a while," Hotch tells you over the phone.

That's what he told you three days after the B.A.U took a case in Florida. Serial killer, targeting single wives and their children. 

If the case goes on any longer, Hotch says you can come join them, but you hoped that they'd be able to solve it before your one week break ended. 

The killer's time between murders is rapidly diminishing and you can hear the worry in Hotch's voice. They must not have a suspect, or a full profile yet. 

"I can come now, if you need me," you answer, biting your nails, looking at yourself in the mirror.. 

You haven't fully recovered yet. There's still light bruising around your eye where you were punched, not to mention faint bruising all over your body. 

"Rest, Y/N, you need time to recover," Hotch says kindly, "if I need you down here, I'll let you know." 

"Alright," you squeeze your phone tightly before saying, "I miss you." 

"I miss you too," he responds in a low voice, assuming that there's others nearby, "I'll be home soon." 

"I know you will," you reply, "just come back in one piece." 

"No promises," he jokingly replies back before going, "see you soon, Y/N." 

"Definitely," you say then hang up. You grip your flip phone in your hand, letting out a sigh. 

In a weird way, you kind of understood how Haley felt whenever Hotch was on a case. It was hard, being home, bored out of your mind. At least she had a baby to take care of. 

You spent your days lounging around, going to doctor's appointments, having a psychological evaluation done. 

That was not fun, to say the least. 

You haven't had your mind prodded like that since you joined your ghost unit. It's a very unpleasant feeling having someone ask you if you're okay after being beaten up by someone you had assumed to be dead. 

However, you passed with flying colors, so you must be able to manage your trauma well. 

_Well enough_ , that's what they'd say. 

When the wounds heal, all you'll have left are the memories. Soon, the memories will fade and it will just be another case in your mind. 

You hold that tightly in your grasp, never letting you waver from that thought. 

It'll all wash away eventually… 

In the meantime, you use this time to catch up on TV shows you've missed, you learned some new recipes, you went to the shooting range and made sure your accuracy was there. 

You will _never_ miss another shot again. 

On your way back, you see Haley's car parked outside of Hotch's house. You get out of your taxi and jog up to the front door, seeing Haley pacing back and forth.

"Hey!" You shout, trying to catch her attention. 

She turns when she hears your voice and goes, "oh, Y/N, there you are. I tried the doorbell but no one answered…" 

"Sorry, I was at-" You shake off wanting to mention where you were and instead say, "wait, what are you doing here? Hotch is on a case right now." 

"I know," she seems nervous. Her hands are shaky. She can't make eye contact. 

"What's wrong?" You ask, putting your hand out to touch her shoulder. She lets you, before breaking down in your arms.

"I need your help," she cries out, "I-I don't know who else to ask." 

You quickly invite her inside, not wanting the neighbors to question why Hotch's ex-wife is crying on your shoulder right now.

Guiding Haley to the couch, you sit her down before inquiring, "what do you need my help with?" 

"I…" Haley swallows, her throat dry, the worry overwhelming her, "I lost something." 

"Okay, I'm going to need you to be a little more specific than that," you gently coax her into telling you the whole story. 

"My…my engagement ring, it got stolen," she spills back into sobs, "I-"

 _Engagement ring_ , you blink a few times. _Now that's a surprise._

"I didn't know you were engaged," you pull your arms away for a moment, "if I had known, I wouldn't have hit on you, my bad."

"No one knew except me and him," Haley explains, "we wanted to keep it between us until we could find a time to explain it to our families. He has kids too and an ex-wife, so…" 

"Don't worry, I get it," you go back to comforting her, rubbing her shoulders, "so, are you ready to tell me how you lost it?" 

Haley takes a few deep breaths. From your point of view, it seems like she hasn't told anyone yet. 

You wonder why she's telling you, but you assume she must still be in contact with J.J. You heard they were close, before the whole divorce, so J.J must've mentioned your past to her. 

That can only really mean one thing.

She needs you to steal her ring back. 

"Last night…I was out with some friends I hadn't seen in a while," she tells the story with tears forming down her eyes, "I didn't want to tell them about my engagement, since we weren't that close, but I didn't want to leave my ring at home, in case my sister found it so I brought it with me to the bar. Then…"

She begins to choke up, the sobs taking over her and you pull her in, patting her on the back as she cries onto you. 

"Take your time," you say patiently, "I'm here for you." 

Haley nods, her eyes red with tears. Her face is filled with guilt and you can't help but wonder why. 

Soon, everything makes sense, in the most twisted way. Your stomach churns and your blood boils as she continues telling you what happened through her tears.

"There was this man there, my friends thought he was cute. He bought me a drink. They pushed me to talk to him. I-I shouldn't have gave into the pressure, I should've-"

"You can't blame yourself, Haley, please," you already know where this story is going and you hate the feeling creeping up your spine. 

She nods her head again, trying to convince herself to believe you, as she goes, "I went over and I told him, a complete stranger, that I was engaged and that my friends were just trying to set me up. He laughed and then told me to have a drink with him and he'd pay for my cab home and I could use him as an excuse to go home. I thought he was just being nice. I should've known. I shouldn't have trusted him."

You hold her steady as you look right into her eyes, begging her, "Haley, please. No matter what happened, you cannot blame yourself for it. You couldn't have known."

"I should've," she cries out, "I should've known the moment I took a sip of that drink. I felt so dizzy a few moments after and he took me away. I heard him telling my friends that he was going to take me home. They didn't even care. They wanted me to go with him. I should've never gone out with them…" 

"You don't have to finish telling me," you kindly rub her shoulders as you say, "I think I have the picture."

She shakes her head, responding, "I know how this works. You need the full picture. Everything I remember. That's the only way you'll catch him. I can do this, I just…I need a tissue." 

You reach over to the coffee table and hand her one. She pats her eyes then blows her nose, clearing herself up a bit. She takes a few long, deep breaths then finishes her story.

"I kept telling him I wanted to go home but then he pulled out a gun and told me to shut up or else he'd shoot. Then, he took me back to his place. I barely remember what happened. Whatever he put in my drink, it caused me to only catch glimpses of moments. He told me that an engaged woman shouldn't be out with friends flirting with other men. He told me I deserved what was happening to me. Thankfully, I don't…remember…any of the…"

She takes in another deep breath before continuing again. 

"I woke up a few hours later here," she opens her purse and pulls out a snippet of a map, "tossed out like trash, in a dirty alleyway. I quickly hailed a cab and went home. Both Jack and my sister were asleep so I just washed myself for hours, crying. I couldn't bear to face either of them so…I told them I was going out for a job interview, but instead I came here and that's that…" 

Suddenly, her phone rings and Haley pulls it out. A man's name pops up and she quickly declines the call. 

"I'm assuming that's your fiancé?" 

She nods and says, "I haven't talked to him yet. I-I don't know if I can. I feel so… _disgusting_. I should've-"

"Look at me," you instruct her to stare right into your eyes, "what that man at the bar did to you was a crime. You are the victim here. Do not blame yourself for his actions. He is scum and I will find him, I promise. I'll get that ring back." 

Haley begins to sob again and you pull her back into your arms, holding her tightly, comforting her until she's completely cried out. 

"If you need a safe space, you're welcome to stay here," you offer, "I'm sure Hotch won't mind."

"Please," she begs you, "don't tell Aaron about this. I-I can barely explain my fiance, I can't…" 

"I won't," you swear, "he'll never know."

"Thank you," she lets out a sigh of relief, "you…you don't have to do this for me. You know that, right?" 

"I want to help," you tell her honestly, "how can I resist helping a beautiful woman?" 

She blushes at your words and you chuckle, pulling her in for a hug.

"I'll get that son of a bitch," you vow before pulling away from her, "but I need to know something first."

"Anything," she opens up completely. 

"Are you going to report the rape to the police?" You ask, though you already know the answer. 

"I can't," she admits, "it would break me to testify. I'm so sorry…"

"I understand," you squeeze her shoulder reassuringly, "he picked you for that very reason. He must've done this before, all with faithful women caught in compromising situations. That's why he got away with it."

"I know I should report it but…" Haley's voice staggers, "I-I don't think I c-could…" 

"You won't need to," you assure her, "he's going to go to jail. I can promise you that. It just won't be for rape, at least not until they get a warrant to search his apartment." 

"I-I don't understand," she chokes up on her words, "w-what are you going to do?"

"It's complicated," you assert, "given his victim pool, no one will likely report his assaults, which means we have nothing to convict him of a crime."

"So, how is he going to go to jail?" She stares at you, puzzled.

"Let's just say, what I did for the FBI, is much like what I'm going to do to him," you try to be as vague but as detailed as you can, "I don't know how much you know about me, but I used to perform drops for the FBI and some of these drops weren't exactly… _legal_. Or, for FBI agents. I was the best at performing these kinds of drops." 

Her eyes widen at your system, "you don't mean you're going to-"

"Nothing," you interject, patting her hand gently, "I'm going to do nothing. Do you understand?" 

She reads your facial expression and she nods, understanding. 

"All I need is a picture of the ring." 

Haley quickly sends you a photo of it through text and you stare at it, keeping it in your mind. 

"Your ring won't be found at the scene," you promise her, "I'll get him tonight." 

For the next few hours, Haley describes what he looks like to you and you make mental notes of everything she tells you. Being Hotch's ex-wife, her recall is very descriptive and hits all the points you need.

Given the distance from the bar to where Haley was dumped, you can assume that he lives somewhere in between, though much closer to the dump site, since Haley mentioned being carried for a while before waking up. 

From the behavior he exhibits, he most likely was dumped by a fiancée who cheated on him and every woman he targets is an embodiment of her. He is likely in an inferior position at his work, but too submissive to ask for a promotion. He can only gain power over women by using his 'nice guy' ruse and drugging them. 

The gun he carries is overkill. He has no confidence, which will make this a lot easier for you. 

"Haley, why don't you lay here and rest," you suggest, laying her down on the couch, "I'll be back before you know it. Can I borrow your car?"

"Sure," she hands you her keys, "I-I'll try to sleep."

"See you later," you squeeze her shoulder before you head out.

You hear her tell you 'thank you' as you leave the house. 

You take her car and drive to the office. Without warning, you walk into Garcia's office and she lets out a blood-curdling scream.

"Sorry, sorry!" You run up to her, trying to calm her down, "I should've knocked."

Garcia puts her hand over her heart, answering, "I nearly shit myself. That would _not_ be a suitable reason to ask for a new chair, but maybe I can finally get one."

"I promise I can get you that chair, I just need you to look up someone for me," you gesture for her to turn back to her desk.

"I thought you weren't on the case," she responds, pulling up her system.

"I'm not," you tell her the truth, "this is…a personal request. Keep it between us, alright?" 

Garcia swallows then goes, "Hotch will kill me if he finds out."

"He won't," you reassure her, "he'll have to kill me first."

 _Or better_ , you chuckle to yourself. 

"Alright, but you better teach me how to pickpocket," she puts her pinky out for you to promise, "I want to be able to steal Derek's fine ass."

You let out a chuckle then say, wrapping your pinky around hers, "no promises on that front, since I don't think I could steal that, but I can teach you a few things."

"Great! Now who do we need to find?" She cracks her knuckles before putting her fingers on the keys. 

"I'm looking for a man. White, late thirties, early forties, living in this area," you show her a radius on the map Haley gave you, "he owns a gun, this model, most likely owns the place he's currently living in, frequents this bar, pays card."

"So, if I narrow down this list, which is still very long, and then cross reference it with credit card transactions from this bar…" Garcia types away before hitting enter and a few names and faces pop up.

You look down at Haley's description and point at one of the men, "him, pull his file."

"Okay, we have a Filbert Washington, age 40, divorced twice, several petty theft charges and a few break-ins as a minor, one attempted sexual assault charge, but it was dropped by his then-fiancee," Garcia reads off, "is that your guy?"

"Yep," you write down his current address in your notes then say, "thank you. How is the case with the team going?"

Garcia exits the profile you both were just looking at and she pulls up all the info on the current case. You skim through it quickly and take a deep breath.

Hotch was right. It would be a while. 

"Have you searched up any men who may have survived the murder of his single mom and siblings?" You ask Garcia, "it's a long shot, but consider non-natives as well. He may have been born somewhere else, moved to Florida for a brief time where the murders happened, then moved away, only to come back later to recreate what had happened to him."

"Honestly, any idea is a good idea right now," she goes back to her computer, typing away.

"Keep me posted," you wave goodbye to her then head to your car. 

According to what Garcia found out, he would be at work for the next few hours, meaning you have some time to break into his apartment and find Haley's ring. You head over there, parking where you know traffic cams won't spot you, then sneak into the building. 

It's an old building. No cameras, which you had assumed since he was able to drag drugged women into his apartment without fear. You pick the lock rather easily and walk inside. 

As predicted, no one was home. The place is immaculate. He sure liked to clean up after a rape. 

With your gloves on, you search every nook and cranny of the apartment, finding where he had his date rape drugs and his pornography stack.

 _Yuck, the pages are sticky,_ you gag before putting them back. 

You then see a very loose floorboard and carefully lift it, seeing a jar of rings. This makes you nauseous. 

How many women has he… 

_Son of a bitch,_ you grit your teeth before opening the jar, pulling out Haley's ring, matching it to the photo she sent you. 

After you collect what you need, you decide to make the police's life a lot easier later. You place the jar of rings and the drugs under his bed, hidden behind some boxes. Then, you lay the pornography magazines slightly exposed under his bed, so they'll be sure to check under there. 

Now, it's time to catch a criminal. 

You leave out the balcony, leaving the apartment exactly the way you found, minus the obvious evidence. 

You then wait outside his work, with your phone in hand. When you see him step out, you get on the phone immediately.

"Ugh, are you serious?" You groan, your eyes turned away from him, paying attention to your phone, "you won't be home until tomorrow? I just wanted to see you…I'm picking up the ring today! Don't you want to be there! Whatever, I'll see you later." 

You angrily hang up and pout, crossing your arms, sighing.

"I could use a drink," you let out a sigh, before turning your attention to the man staring at you. 

"Ah, sorry," he tells you, "I didn't mean to eavesdrop…"

 _Sure you didn't_ , you hold yourself back from rolling your eyes. 

"I was just supposed to pick up my ring with my fiancé today," you admit with a frown, "do you know how embarrassing it'll be walking into a jewelry store alone, asking for my ring alone?" 

You put your face in your hand, shaking your head, looking vulnerable and defeated.

"If it's nearby, I wouldn't mind pretending to be your husband so you can pick it up," he says to you in a kind, caring tone. 

_So, that's how you did it, fucker._

"You're too sweet," you give him puppy eyes, before reaching for his hand, brushing against it flirtatiously with your fingers, "let me buy you a drink after, yeah?"

"You don't have to…" 

"I insist," you reply, "you're saving me a lot of trouble."

He nods and then follows you to a nearby jewelry store. You chat up the owners and they recognize your order and go to the back to pick it up. 

However, not before they pull you aside, away from Filbert, saying, "is that man really your husband?"

You shake your head, whispering, "I don't know who he is, he just insisted on coming in with me so he could look at a few things." 

"Stay right here, ma'am," the owner tells you, "I'm calling the police."

"W-woah, wait, the police?" Your eyes widen, "what's going on?"

The other owner explains, "earlier, a man fitting his description coerced another woman to come in with him, telling her to look at jewelry, before he pocketed all of it and ran. Luckily, she got a good look at him before he could get away." 

"He's real stupid for coming back," you tell them and they both nod. 

In the matter of moments, the police arrive, questioning Filbert, who insists that he has nothing on him. They find one of the smaller pieces on him and his gun. They escalate the charges to attempted armed robbery and get a warrant to search his apartment for the other pieces. 

They find the other pieces hidden with the rings, along with the date rape drugs. The police begin a more thorough investigation and one of his victims comes forward. She couldn't bear to face her fiancé after what happened and now, she can finally face the man that broke her. 

Other women came forward as well, opening the scandal wide. He will be going to jail for a long time. 

All the while, you come home to Haley on the couch, saying, "did it…"

You nod your head, replying, "he's going to be in jail for a long time." 

You pull out her ring from your pocket and she breaks down in tears, thanking you. She gives you a big hug before putting the ring on, not wanting to hide it anymore. 

"Go, you need to see him," you tell her. "He's worried sick about you." 

She takes a few deep breaths before saying, "you're amazing, thank you." 

"Anytime," you give her a soft smile. "We're friends."

"If Aaron ever gives you a hard time, I can make his visitations hell," she smiles back. 

"I really like you," you giggle. 

Haley wipes the tears from her eyes and then pulls her phone out, calling her fiancé. You hear her tell him that she'll explain everything soon as she closes the door. 

Again, you're alone. 

You pull out your phone, calling an old friend, saying, "thanks for your help."

"It's been a long time, Y/N," a female voice chuckles through the line. "I almost forgot how fun your schemes were."

"Oh come on, Amy," you groan, "catching criminals barely counts as a scheme." 

"I heard you're back in the FBI," Amy pokes at you, "when are you going to come back to us?"

"I'm over that life," you answer, "tired of planting evidence. I want to be the one finding it." 

"Ah, the thief becomes the cop," she teases you, "glad to hear you're doing well. After those FBI agents came to talk to us, we were so worried…" 

"No one can keep me down, not even a ghost," you make light of the whole thing. 

"Well, if you ever get tired of digging for evidence and want to get back into the game, give me a call. I'm the captain now."

"Wow, to think they let you run things, I guess I'm never coming back," you joke, making her laugh.

"I miss you and your stupid jokes," she giggles over the phone, "let's meet over drinks next time, and don't dress like a man this time. I might get too aroused." 

You whistle into the phone and say, "I just might now!" 

She laughs before saying goodbye and hanging up. 

You're surprised everything executed just as planned, all thanks to Amy's wonderful acting. 

You made sure to watch Filbert go to lunch. When Garcia had tracked his credit card, you saw that he pulls out cash at an ATM near a cash-only cafe. So, you had Amy cut the cameras leading up to the cafe, making sure he had no alibi. 

When Amy was certain that Filbert was occupied eating there for a good hour, you broke into his house, put on the same outfit he was wearing today, which thankfully you filled in decently enough to pass, and headed to the jewelry store, where Amy was waiting for you. She cut the cameras to the store earlier so you both are cleared for the plan. 

You walked in with her and asked her to pick any rack of jewelry. She selects one that she knows you'll have a breeze stealing, then the act begins. You, with a hat on, swipe the jewelry and then head out. Amy plants the idea of what Filbert looks like to the owners, making him the thief. 

You go back to his house, change back into your clothes and then plant all the jewelry except one small piece. Then, you head over to his work and the rest is history. You slip the hat into his briefcase and the small piece into his inner pocket when he's distracted by your hand touching his. 

It makes the evening news and Garcia calls you, saying, "wasn't that the guy who you asked me to look up? He was so much more of a scumbag than I thought!"

"I know, that's why I tipped off the cops," you explain, "it was only a matter of time before he cracked." 

"You're full of good hunches today," she tells you, "I found a hit on a suspect with the parameters you thought up. The team is following up on it." 

"Good to hear," you breathe a sigh of relief. "I guess I'm ready to come back to work."

"It'll be good to have you back. I want my lessons as soon as possible," Garcia chuckles.

"You'll get them, along with your new chair. See you soon, good night," you say before hanging up. 

You plop down on the couch, exhausted after a long day of work. 

When you first joined your ghost unit, the psychological evaluation made sure that you were mentally capable of planting evidence on criminals who needed to be put away, but had no hard evidence that would amount to a warrant. Your team was made especially to catch these criminals. 

It was injustice for justice. To you, it made sense. These criminals did horrible things, like what Filbert had done to Haley and all those other women. And, just like Filbert, they would've gotten away with it, if your team wasn't there to plant the evidence needed to arrest them. 

It was a little white lie. 

How much can a lie cost you?

You are about to find out…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back in business, baby! The plot thickens, with more background on who you are/were! ~


	2. Shining Skyline

You wake up when you hear the front door open. Rubbing your eyes, you're surprised to hear a briefcase being tossed aside and a suit jacket being thrown onto the couch before Hotch kneels beside you.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" His voice slowly catches up to your vision. 

"What time is it?" You look at the clock in the distance. It's 3am so you ask, "I'm guessing you solved the case?" 

The answer is written in his calm eyes. He nods his head, leaning in to kiss you, a smile on his lips as he does. You take his face in your hands, kissing him back, missing the feeling of his lips against yours. 

"All I wanted was to come home and see you," Hotch tells you, his words making you grin uncontrollably. 

"Did you miss me that much?" You brush your fingers through his hair as you say that. 

"I really did," he admits, his fingers grazing the small bruise that remains on your face, before asking, "how are you feeling?"

You lift your shirt up to show him your stomach. The bruises there have healed up completely. 

It's almost like none of it ever happened. 

"The doctors say I can go back to work whenever I want," you respond, taking his hand in yours, "so…can I?" 

"You really want to go back? You still have a few days left off," Hotch squeezes your hand, "maybe you should rest." 

"I want to be there for the team," you beg him, "at the very least, I can stay at the office. I'll work with Garcia, learn new skills until I'm fully recovered." 

"I'd like that," he replies, "I want you safe."

"I'll never be safe," you respond, his eyes widening at your statement, but then you follow up with, "not when I'm around you."

"That is true," he says back, "you'll never know when I'll strike next."

Hotch's hands wrap around your waist, pulling you in for a warm embrace. You smile against his shoulder, hugging him back. 

He then lifts you up into his arms and you're surprised he still has the energy to. He carries you to his bedroom and lays you down. You watch as he strips his clothes off to nothing but his undershirt and boxers, before climbing into bed with you. 

"You know," he turns to lay on his side, facing you, "this is all I could think about while I was on the case. Coming home, laying next to you." 

"When did you become so sentimental?" You give him a gentle grin, your eyes just as tired as his are. 

"That's a good question," he tells you, leaning in for a kiss, whispering against your lips, "I guess you just do that to me." 

"Stop, I might get a cavity," you make an unpleasant face and Hotch lets out a small laugh. 

You loved seeing him smile. It was a rare sight, but it made you happy to see him smile for you. 

"I'm taking a personal day tomorrow," he says as he brushes his fingers through your hair, "I have something to show you." 

"That doesn't sound good," you tease, "do I get a hint?"

Hotch shakes his head, his eyes drifting slowly, tired from coming home so late. You watch as he gradually falls asleep with his hand on your head and his arm wrapped around you. 

You lean in closer, taking in the smell of his aftershave and hotel shampoo. 

You really can't imagine not drowning in this scent. 

Your eyes close blissfully, sleeping next to the man that's found a way to steal your heart. 

When you wake up, the sun is shining through the curtains. Hotch is still fast asleep and you let him sleep, just staring at him. He definitely needs to sleep more, his dark circles will only grow if he doesn't. Though, the job doesn't really allow for it. 

How long has he been working at the B.A.U? How long did it take for him to grow that restlessness that keeps him up at night? 

Somehow, he sleeps easier next to you and you feel the same. 

There's no one you'd rather sleep next to… 

Your phone starts to buzz on the nightstand and you quickly grab it before it can wake Hotch. He rolls over at the noise, but he doesn't wake up. You let out a sigh of relief, wanting him to sleep more. 

You look at the caller ID then slip out of bed to answer the call in the hallway, away from the bedroom, saying, "hey, how's my baby?"

Peter chuckles over the phone, replying, "Wendy got the treats you sent. She loves them, literally won't stop begging for them now."

"I figured by that video you sent," you giggle, remembering the adorable text Peter had sent you yesterday. 

After the San Francisco case, you and Peter have kept in touch, becoming friends. He tells you all about how his wife is moving back in with him and you tell him about your relationship with Hotch. He's the only one in your life that knows the reality and you liked having someone to be honest with. 

It has helped you process your feelings and you're thankful to have a friend like him. 

"I'm calling because I just flew into D.C for a one-day conference," he tells you, "let's grab dinner while I'm here, I owe you one." 

"Oh, you _definitely_ do," you joke.

"Got any place in mind?" He asks. 

"You pick," you put the responsibility on him and he turns it back to you.

"It's your city," he responds, "shouldn't you be showing me around?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" You tease. 

"Fine, I'll pick, but you better not complain if it's terrible," he makes a good point. 

"Alright, alright," you rebuttal, "there's this place on main that I heard is good. I'll send you the address. Meet you there at 7pm?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he replies.

"You better not," you say with a smile, "see you then." 

You flip your phone off then stretch your arms, before turning around and nearly falling over by the sudden sight of Hotch right next to you. 

Your heart pounds out of your chest, startled, as you exclaim, "wow, you're like a cat, I didn't even hear you come up to me!"

Hotch doesn't seem amused by your joke. He…doesn't really seem happy at all. You raise your eyebrow at the sight. You thought he'd be well-rested, considering the time. 

"Who was that?" Hotch gestures to your phone. 

"Oh," you look down at your phone, then back up at him, "it's just a friend. We made dinner plans for tonight." 

"A friend?" Hotch definitely does not believe you.

"Actually no, _obviously_ I have a dick appointment and I didn't tell you," you fold your arms, matching his glare. 

"That's not funny, Y/N," he stares you down. "I took the day off so we could spend time together."

"The day's still young," you tell him, taking his hands in yours, squeezing them, "my friend is only here for today, so it would be a shame if I couldn't grab dinner."

You bat your eyelashes at him, begging him to let you go. He lets out a sigh then says, "fine, the team wanted to go out for drinks tonight, but you can join us after your dinner."

"Thanks," you lean up to kiss him on the cheek, "and Hotch?"

"Yes?" 

"You're cute when you're jealous," you chuckle before immediately running off to your room, shutting the door behind you.

Hotch stands in the hallway, shaking his head at you. It was hard not to be, though. He had no idea who your friend was and why you said 'how's my baby doing'. 

What videos were you getting and why was Hotch going absolutely crazy analyzing every word of your conversation? 

He tries to get it out of his mind, but he finds it all so strange. You never seemed like the type to use terms of endearment like 'baby'. You've never called him anything besides Hotch, or the occasional Aaron. 

Did he want you to call him something special? He didn't even know what he wanted, if he's being honest.

Neither did you, which is why you wanted to see Peter tonight. You wanted to chat openly about everything. You needed advice. 

You've never felt this way before. Was it love? You're unsure. You've loved before, but the way you feel for Hotch is just… _different_. You can't explain it, so you're hoping someone else can for you. 

You decide to dress nicely today since you'll be going to some mysterious location with Hotch and you had no idea if you had time to change before dinner with Peter. You throw on a nice sundress, paired with a leather jacket for the nighttime. You know there's no way in hell you'll last in heels all day, but the thought of Hotch looming over you makes you opt for some comfortable platforms. You couldn't let him think he was _that_ much taller than you. 

You throw on some light makeup that you could easily retouch and then you're good to go. 

The entire time, a thought drifted through your mind. Is today… _a date?_

It would be a first for you and Hotch, but he didn't prompt it as such. He just said he wanted to spend the day with you.

Wow, you really haven't gone out in a very long time. You haven't even worn this nice of underwear in a long time either. You wonder if Hotch will rip it off you tonight.

You sure hope he does. 

You smirk into the mirror, doing some last second touch ups, before heading out the door. You spot Hotch in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee. He's wearing a short sleeved black shirt and khakis. 

There's just something about the way his shirt hugs his arms. It reminds you how physically attractive he is and how much you love being in those arms. 

However, you can't _not_ take the opportunity to push his buttons a little. 

"What are you wearing?" You look at him up and down, a judgemental expression on your face.

"What?" He glares at you, saying, "how can you comment about my outfit, there's nothing wrong with it." 

"Yeah, that's the problem," you pout, "I can't make fun of you. Where's the golfer outfit or the PTA dad look?"

"You are truly something else," Hotch says with a groan, "have you always been a brat?" 

"My whole life," you lean your elbows against the kitchen counter, resting your chin on your palms, staring dreamily at him, "and you know you can't get enough of it."

"I'm starting to think I'm in over my head," he throws a joke back at you, shocking you.

"When did you learn how to make a comeback?" You gasp, "I need to get back to the office. Obviously I've been gone far too long!" 

Hotch can't contain his smile, rolling his eyes at you as he takes the final sip of his coffee, saying, "are you ready to head out?"

"As ready as I can be for a Hotch surprise," you say, throwing your purse over your shoulder. 

Hotch leads you to his car and he drives you down the street, out of the neighborhood, before parking in a lot nearby a commercial street. He then gets out and you follow as he walks a few blocks to an upscale building, opening the lobby doors for you. 

"Is this a hotel?" You ask him as you both get into the elevator, whispering, "you do realize we can just fuck at home, right?"

"Please don't ruin this surprise for me," he replies, before taking your hand in his, leading you out of the elevator on the top floor, down the hallway to one of the doors. 

"I'm just saying, we can-"

You immediately shut up the moment Hotch opens the door. Your vision immediately fills with the D.C skyline. The windows bathe the room in sunlight and you can't believe how beautiful everything is.

It strangely reminds you of your apartment in NYC, except the furniture isn't secondhand and definitely more chic than you'd ever admit your tastes to be. 

"What is this?" You turn to Hotch, who is still holding your hand. 

"Welcome to your apartment," he gestures. 

"Woah, wait, what?" Your eyes widen, trying to process what he's saying. 

Hotch shows you around without answering. It's a loft style apartment, with stairs that lead up to a bedroom which overlooks the open concept living room and kitchen. It's fully furnished, with high ceilings and wall to wall windows. 

It's a dream, honestly. 

He then explains, "I think it's important for you to have your own space, so I found this place before I left for Florida. It's close enough to my house that we can still carpool to work without raising suspicions." 

"So, this is about carpooling?" You ask with a cheeky grin, though Hotch is unamused by your tease. 

"The team would find out eventually if you continued to live in my house," he lays it all out there, "so I wanted to find a space that worked out for the both of us. Do you not like it?" 

You turn to him, saying, "it's not that. It's just…I never thought you'd be the sugar daddy type. You surprise me everyday, Hotch." 

Hotch groans at your words, replying, "I would hardly consider this anything like that. I only paid the security deposit and first month's rent, in case you hated the place." 

"You cheaped out on me?" You put your hand over your mouth, feigning shock, "to think, I thought we had something special!"

"We both know you come from money," he gives you the side eye, making you chuckle.

"Which is why you should've just told me you wanted me to move out," you tell him sincerely, "I could've easily found a place, you didn't need to go through the hassle."

"I wanted to," he says, walking up to you until he closes the space between you two, "I didn't want you to move out, but I knew you had to so I wanted to find a place where you were still close to me." 

"You can't get enough of me, can you?" You tease, tugging at his shirt playfully.

"I can't help it," he leans down, pressing a kiss against your lips, breathing out, "I just need to be close to you." 

What started as small, soft kisses, slowly grew to hot, passionate ones. You've missed the feeling of his lips on yours. It steals every breath you have away. 

Hotch moves from your lips to your neck, making you sigh, loving the way he feels against your skin. 

"Did you miss this?" You ask him as he pulls your body closer to his, his hands on your hips, his lips coming back to yours. 

"I never stopped thinking about you," he admits before his lips meet yours again. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him close to you. You wanted him to touch you, to feel his hands run up your skin, but he refuses to leave your lips. 

You sigh against him, "I want you so badly." 

"How badly?" He prompts, his hands feeling you through your dress. 

You then lean forward, saying seductively into his ear, "I need you, I haven't been able to cum without you."

Hotch bites his lip at your words, falling for them, answering, "you haven't touched yourself?"

"I have," you respond, "but I can't get anywhere close. I just think of you and my touch suddenly isn't enough."

"I guess we'll have to fix that," he says, pulling you towards the couch. 

Hotch lays you back, but he sits upright next to you, just staring at you in your compromising position. He can see everything. 

The way your dress lays on your thighs, barely covering your panties. The look in your eyes, begging him to fuck you. 

"Show me how you'd touch yourself," he commands, spreading your legs open with his hands. 

You lick your lips, knowing that he wants a show. So, you give it to him, your tongue wrapping around your fingers. Then, you slide your hand into your underwear and you lift your dress just enough so he can see you rub your clit. You lean your head back, your breaths heavy, as you make those slow circles he always does, trying to mimic the way he feels against you. 

You knew he could see how soaked you were through your underwear, how ready you were for him to take you. So, you slip a finger inside of you, letting out a long sigh, wishing it was him. 

Your pace is slow at first, wanting to replicate how he teases you, but you gain momentum as you get greedy, wanting your release sooner rather than later. 

"Please," you beg, your eyes never leaving his, your fingers trying to give you what you want but ultimately failing. 

Your orgasm doesn't come, no matter how hard you try. Hotch watches as you get closer and closer but you can't climax. You need him. 

"It looks like you need someone to show you how to do it," he tells you, gesturing for you to come towards him. 

You slowly pull your fingers out of you, biting your lip at the emptiness and the sight of how wet you are. Hotch then tugs your wrist towards him, pulling your fingers into his mouth, tasting you with his eyes locked on yours. The feeling of his warm tongue against you makes you crave him desperately. 

Then, Hotch pulls you onto his lap, with your back against his chest, sitting between his legs. He moves his hand down, lifting your dress back up so you can watch his fingers slide into your underwear. You gasp when you feel his finger graze your clit, your hands reflexively gripping his thighs to steady yourself. 

His voice is low and enticing against your ear, "close your eyes and just focus on what I'm doing."

You nod, your eyes shut, leaning towards his touch as he begins touching you just the way you like it. He takes his time, as he always does, rubbing those tantalizing circles that make you go absolutely insane. 

There's something about his fingers. They're rough with calluses but his touch is gentle despite that. It's the reason he goes so slowly, to gauge how you'll react as he starts to ramp it up. 

You breathe out, looking back at him, "please don't stop."

Hotch gives you one look and you know exactly what he's going to do. He's going to keep you at the edge, begging. 

Right when you're about to climax, he stops moving completely, making you shake in protest. His hand pulls away and keeps your legs spread, denying you of any friction. 

"Don't do this," you plead, your hands gripping his pants tightly, "I was so close." 

"Obviously, you aren't touching yourself correctly," he replies, as if this is really a lesson, "I didn't even need to slip a finger in you and you were already about to explode." 

"What did you expect?" Your heart pounds in your chest as you say, "I need you, Aaron."

"Do you?" He questions, his hand resting on your thigh, his fingers grazing your core through your underwear. 

You nod, replying, "I really do." 

You immediately grab a hold of him as his hand pulls your underwear aside before thrusting a finger inside of you. A moan leaves your lips, feeling him fill you up, adding another finger with ease. 

"You've tightened up since I left," he tells you as he spreads his fingers apart inside of you, making you gasp suddenly, "I guess we'll have to fix that too." 

"Just stop talking and fuck me already," you lean back, feeling how hard he already is. 

You feel Hotch shake his head behind you, saying, "you're too eager, should I pull my fingers out completely then?" 

" _No!_ " You exclaim, grabbing his wrist, stopping him from even considering it. 

"Don't make me tie you up," he refers to your hand on his and you pull it away quickly as he says that. 

You ball your hand up into a fist, unable to do anything. He's in full control right now and you can't do anything about it. 

"I hate when you do this," you say, holding your breath the moment his fingers start to move again. 

"I'm sure you do," Hotch replies, curling his fingers again, making you gasp for air. 

As much as you want to keep talking back, you suddenly feel your release begin to build again and you lean back against him, looking up into his eyes. Hotch leans down, kissing you, his warm tongue wrapping around yours. You pull his face towards you as his fingers thrust into you at just the right pace and your climax hits you before you can even react. 

Hotch doesn't let you leave his lips, forcing you to moan against him, making him smile. You manage to pull away right as you come down from your high, breathing heavy, clutching his shoulders to keep you steady. 

You're shaking all over, your legs weak, your mind somewhere else completely now.

You don't register that Hotch has leaned you back on the couch so that you're laying on your back again. He pulls his fingers out of you and you bite your lip to stop yourself from reacting. 

You watch as he licks his fingers before saying, "it looks like I need to clean you up." 

Oh god, you know those eyes. Those hungry eyes. 

"Hotch, please-" 

You try to stop him but his head dives between your legs before you can and his tongue lands right on your sensitive clit. The wet sounds of his tongue against your core fill the room and you cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to add your moans into the mix. 

It wasn't just the feeling that got you going insane, it was the sight as well. Hotch had his arms holding your legs down, his hands bunching up your dress, your underwear long gone, his eyes looking right up at you. 

"You should be arrested," you tell him, your hand moving to his hair, holding him against you. 

He pulls away for a second to reply with a smirk, "aren't you an FBI agent? Why don't you arrest me?" 

"Fucking hell, Hotch," you roll your eyes but you can barely keep your annoyed expression when his tongue is doing the things it's doing. 

"How close are you again?" He asks, one of his hands massaging the inside of your thigh as he speaks. 

"Quit stalling," you groan, shaking your legs, "you know how close I am, don't be a dick." 

Hotch grazes his finger against you and you nearly lose it. You just want him and you wished he would just give you what you wanted. He moves away from you completely, sitting back up. You follow his lead, getting up off your back, staring at him. Hotch looks incredibly amused and you want to wipe that grin off his face. 

"It's been three days, Aaron," you breathe out, "how much longer are you going to wait to fuck me?" 

"I've waited longer," he replies, wanting to keep you on your toes. 

"You're seriously insufferable," you groan, gritting your teeth. 

"If you want me, then just take what you want," he challenges you. 

Unlucky for him, you're always up for a challenge. So, you grab a hold of him by his shirt and pull him up to you, kissing him. You tug his shirt off before straddling his lap, your lips never leaving his skin. You kiss up and down his chest and neck as your hand kneads him through his pants. He hardens at your touch and you see him lean back his head, smirking. 

"You wanted me this much?" He asks as that smile refuses to leave his face. 

You don't reply, instead you just unzip his pants and pull his length out. Without a second thought, you push down on him, filling yourself up immediately. You take his lips against yours once again as your hips move up and down, giving you what you want. His hands begin to roam under your dress, holding you closely as you both kiss passionately and your hips meet his with each thrust. 

You moan against his lips as you tighten around him, your orgasm crashing through you. You spill over him, gripping his shoulders for support as he holds your hips down, making you ride your climax as he takes over, fucking you roughly, like this is what he's been waiting for. 

You whimper into his collarbone, "it's too much, I'm going to-"

You then feel his thumb move onto your clit and he begins to rub you forcefully and you orgasm uncontrollably onto him, unable to hold anything in anymore. You scream, you pant, your breaths heavier than they've ever been, as you feel him take over every sense. 

After what feels like an endless sea of orgasms, you finally feel Hotch cum inside of you, filling you up completely. 

It's hot and it threatens to drip right out if he moves away but Hotch stays. He gently caresses your cheek before pulling you in for a kiss. 

It's so tender, so kind. 

"Are you okay?" He says with caring eyes.

You nod, leaning your forehead against his, your breathing a bit sporadic as you speak, "I'm okay, just a little winded." 

"I can be gentler next time," he whispers and you can hear the worry in his voice. He's afraid he overstepped. 

"If I didn't want it, I wouldn't have gotten on top of you," you answer, trying to reassure him, "I'd tell you if I didn't want it. I promise. You can't hurt me, Hotch. I wouldn't let you." 

"I never want to hurt you," he brushes the hair away from your face, wanting to see you clearly as he confesses, "I only want to make you feel good." 

"And you do," you respond, giving him a light peck on the lips, before breathing against them, "you know just how to make me feel good." 

You and Hotch sit there and kiss each other for a while, before he pulls out of you and lifts you up into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. It had the same rain showerhead that he had at his house and you notice he put the soaps you liked out. 

"You really wanted me to move out, didn't you?" You tease, pulling off your dress, tossing it aside. 

Hotch gets out of his pants and pulls you into the shower with him. You both kiss in the shower. He can't get enough of your lips. 

By the time the shower is over, you feel like your lips are swollen red from making out with him. 

_Free lip color_ , you chuckle to yourself as you wrap a towel around your body. Hotch wraps one around his waist and then leads you up to the bedroom area, where there's a closet.

"When did you do this?" You ask, staring at all your clothes in the closet. Somehow, he managed to move everything here without you noticing, along with some of his clothes as well. 

"I guessed you wouldn't open your closet since you weren't going to work," Hotch explains, "so I had the movers coming over during your psych evaluation." 

"Sly," you say with a grin. "I can't believe you profiled me." 

"It wasn't a difficult guess," he says before pulling out the next same outfit he was wearing before, except a clean set. 

"Why do you have-you know what? Nevermind," you roll your eyes, turning back to your side of the closet. You pull out a sweater and a pair of jeans. It's getting colder now so you realize a dress probably wasn't the best idea. At least, not right now. 

It definitely was earlier. 

When you're fully clothed again, Hotch gestures for you to follow him back downstairs. He walks you over to the kitchen and begins pulling things out of the fridge, setting them down on the counter. 

"What's this?" You ask, seeing the ingredients all spread out.

"I thought it'd be nice to cook together," he tells you before pulling something out of the freezer, "since we can't go out together for now." 

He lays down a frozen pizza crust and you realize he's bought all the ingredients for the same vegetarian special you had gotten a few days ago. 

"Oh, you're funny," you glare at him, which makes him chuckle lightly. You see right through his joke, saying, "you better hope no one comes knocking." 

The rest of the day goes smoothly. Hotch proves that ever since Haley left, he's only been ordering take out because he has no idea what he's doing in the kitchen, but at least he has spirit. The pizza ends up coming out pretty well and you and him eat at the counter, sharing a beer, chatting about life. 

"If you left the FBI, would you go back to being a lawyer?" You ask him as you take a sip of beer. 

Hotch shakes his head, answering, "I'd probably go into teaching."

"Really? Professor Hotchner…that'd be something," you tease, though it does roll off the tongue. 

"What about you? Would you go back to being a thief?" He flips the question back on you.

You shrug, saying, "I don't know anymore. It's what I'm good at, so probably."

"Why not just settle down?" He inquires, "we checked your assets when we arrested you, you have quite the inheritance in your name." 

"That's my parents' money," you explain, "and it was never for me to spend." 

You go silent for a moment, drinking your beer and eating your pizza. Hotch knows what happened to your parents. He had to know. He read your profile after all. 

"I won't mention it again, sorry," he tells you, his hand reaching for yours. You let him take it and he squeezes it, comforting you. 

"You know they never found the guy," you tap your glass, not knowing why you're even bringing up past demons, "just the car that killed them. Impounded, a week later. Matched the damage of the crash. To think, that's how they went. A hit and run. I was only eighteen." 

"Did you ever look back into the case?" Hotch asks you, though he feels he shouldn't keep prying, but his curiosity gets the best of him.

"Of course, but the man who owned the car had been dead a long time. His son was nowhere to be found. No paper trail, nothing. For all I know, he's dead too. Neighbors said he was a junkie. Drove high and drunk all the time…it's just unlucky that he took my parents' lives. Probably didn't even realize it." 

You finish your beer, putting your glass in the sink, not wanting to start a chain reaction. You're better than that, especially now. You go back to picking apart your pizza, eating it in pieces. 

"Don't let your past stop you from having a good life, Y/N," Hotch says, breaking you out of your quiet glance. "You deserve happiness."

You nod, saying, "I'm starting to believe that." 

Hotch walks up to you and leans down to kiss you again. His lips taste like tomato sauce and basil. It makes you smile. 

"You make me happy," you tell him. "I haven't felt this way in a long time." 

"I'm glad," he says, kissing you on the forehead. "I'll try to keep it that way."

"Don't put that kind of pressure on yourself," you reply, poking him. "Just keep yourself happy and I'll be happy too." 

"Deal," he answers, pulling you in for a kiss again. 

After you both finish eating, Hotch suggests testing out your new TV system. He had bought a few movies on DVD for you to watch with him. 

You pick one that fits today's theme, Ratatouille. You remember watching it in theaters when it came out, so you end up falling asleep halfway through. 

Hotch pulls you in closer to him, letting you rest on his chest as his eyes threaten to drift as well, but he stays awake, watching the rest of the movie. 

By the time it's over, it's almost 7pm. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, but you're still asleep. Hotch reaches over, looking at the ID that pops up.

It's Peter. 

With your phone in his hand, he looks down at you, seeing that you're not stirring at all. He then, against his best judgment, opens the message. 

_Can't wait to see you, I've missed you. Our talks are always the best. - Peter_

Hotch flips your phone off and sets it back on the table. For some reason, his heart is beating out of his chest. He thought…he didn't know what he thought. 

It wasn't like you couldn't have male friends. You've flirted with everyone. It's just the way you talk. But why did this 'Peter' guy say that he missed you? What did he mean by _talks_? 

Who the hell was this guy and why were you going to have dinner with him after you just spent the day with Hotch? 

Suddenly, Hotch feels you stir awake on his chest and you sit up, rubbing your eyes, saying, "what time is it?" 

For a split second, Hotch almost lied to you. He wanted to tell you that it was earlier than it actually was, so you'd miss your dinner. But, he can't build this relationship with you if he lies. 

Even if he thinks you're lying to him. 

"It's almost 7pm," he answers. 

Your eyes dart open, grabbing your phone. You see that Peter had texted you and you go, "damn, I'm going to be late!"

You quickly check how far the restaurant is from your new apartment and it's a bit far, so you get up, knowing that you'll need to start walking soon. 

Then, your phone rings and you pick up. 

"Hey, I'm here a bit early, where are you?" Peter asks over the phone. 

"Sorry, I lost track of time," you tell him, "I spent the whole day moving into my new apartment and I don't think I'll be there for another 30 minutes."

"No problem, I can come pick you up? I got a rental car," he answers kindly and you're so thankful.

"That would be wonderful," you smile into the phone, "I'll text you my address. See you soon." 

You hang up and breathe a sigh of relief. It would have sucked if you missed him. You were really looking forward to talking with him. 

"Was that your friend?" Hotch says, though his voice is rather malicious. You don't seem to notice though, because you're scrambling to get your purse ready. 

"Yeah, I'm getting picked up," you reply, gathering your things, "sorry I fell asleep. It's a really good movie, I hope you enjoyed it."

Suddenly, your phone buzzes again and you look at it. It's Prentiss. 

_Hey, are you going to grab drinks with us tonight? - Em_

You text her back rapidly.

_I am, I'll just be a bit late. I'm having dinner with Peter beforehand. Text me where you'll be when you all decide._

As you finish making sure you're all ready, you feel your phone buzz again.

_Looking forward to all the steamy details! - Em_

You roll your eyes at your phone before giggling. 

"What's that face for?" You look up and Hotch is right there, looming over you. You wonder if he saw what Prentiss had texted you. He'll definitely misinterpret it if he did. 

"Prentiss just asked if I was meeting up with you all tonight," you explain, putting your phone away immediately, "then she made a dumb joke and I laughed."

"Are you still coming to have drinks?" Hotch asks, skeptical.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," you answer, before feeling your phone vibrate. You pick it up and say, "oh, you're here! I'll be right down!"

You flip it off then lean up to kiss Hotch on the cheek. 

"I'll see you later, thanks for today," you say with a smile, taking his hand in yours for a brief moment, "I had a lot of fun. It was a nice surprise." 

Hotch nods, then watches as you hurriedly leave, your hand letting go of his. When he sees the door shut, he bites his lip, sighing. He knows he can trust you. He knows you wouldn't do anything like that with someone else. 

And yet, he can't stop the sinking feeling in his chest.

Hotch wanted you all to himself and he's worried someone else is about to get in the way… 


	3. Sour Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Jealous!Hotch gets PISSED and it's great :) that's it, that's the whole warning.

You quickly make your way down to the lobby and you see Peter in his car out front. You open the door and are greeted immediately with, "and here I thought you were going to leave me hanging!"

"Sorry, sorry!" You tell him, shutting the door and buckling in, "I was just with him." 

"Oh?" Peter's voice spikes teasingly and you playfully shove him as he drives to the restaurant.

"I think he might be jealous of you," you turn to Peter, admitting, "I didn't really know how to explain our friendship."

"I mean, does he know I'm married?" Peter asks and you shake your head, to which he responds, "I think he'll get the picture after you tell him." 

"Nah," you say. "He'll probably think we're having an affair."

"Are we?" Peter jokingly replies. 

"We both know if we were having an affair, we'd both have too much to lose over decent sex," you respond back. 

"Ouch!" He acts hurt before he flips his expression, going, "wait, you think I'm decent?" 

"Shut up!" You groan, making Peter laugh. 

"If he feels the way you think he does, he'll come through," he replies, "what's this guy's name anyways?"

"You can call him Aaron," you respond. 

"Ah, _Aaron_ ," Peter sings Hotch's name out loud as he parks the car and you roll your eyes. "If only he knew how head over heels you are for him." 

Thankfully, the restaurant was nice enough to hold your reservation despite being twenty minutes late. You decide to invite Peter to have drinks with you and the team after, to which he happily says yes, so neither of you drink over dinner. 

Regardless, you both had a very sobering conversation. 

"What's with the no wedding ring?" You gesture to his hand.

"Cindy wants us to get new ones," Peter explains, showing you a photo on his phone, "we picked these out yesterday before I left. Mine finished sizing today, so it'll be ready when I fly back."

"They're beautiful," you say, looking at the rings with a smile.

"Do you think you'll ever get married?" Peter asks you as he puts his phone away. 

You shrug your shoulders, not really knowing the answer to that question. 

"I came close, once," you say, "I was dating this guy, final year of college. He had asked me to marry him after we graduated." 

"Well, considering that you aren't married, I assume you said no?" 

You nod, answering, "I had to. I had plans to join the FBI and I couldn't bear the thought of putting him through all that waiting, only for me to end up in a dangerous position." 

"Do you regret it? Saying no?" Peter questions bluntly. 

"Sometimes," you reply, poking at your food. "I like to imagine living a normal life. In that life, I see him. He went to school for software engineering. He works at some hotshot company now, probably could've lived on one income, had a house, a kid or two, maybe even a pet." 

"You chose to find criminals instead," Peter tells you, "it's admirable, what you do."

"I know," you respond, "I just don't know if all of this was worth it." 

"This Aaron guy," he prompts, "do you see a future with him?" 

"I want to," you answer, "I really do. We understand each other, we understand the work. We know our boundaries but…"

"But what?" 

You clear your throat, before continuing, "I don't know if what we have can turn into love. I care so much about him, but nothing about our relationship is normal."

"Does it have to be?" Peter makes a good point, he always seems to do that well. "Marriage is a construct, as are relationships. None of them go as linearly as we want them to. I mean, look at mine. We lost each other, only to find each other again. There's nothing normal about that, but it's what makes Cindy and I's relationship what it is. _Special_." 

"You are wasted in tech," you tease, "you should be a motivational speaker."

"I know right!" Peter exclaims, laughing. "I'll let you know when I write my book. _How to fuck up a relationship and then fix it_." 

"I smell a best seller," you smirk, "I'll be the first in line." 

"Y/N," he catches your attention, making sure you hear him out, "the mistakes I've made are all because I was too hesitant to fight for my love. If you want to love Aaron, you have to put your heart out on the line. The moment you put your guard up is the moment you'll lose sight of what you could have."

You take a deep breath, knowing that Peter's right. You can't keep running from love. You were engrained to do so, after everything that's happened to you. You don't know how to open your heart up again, but slowly, Hotch has been making his way in, and you just need to let him. 

"Thanks, Peter," you reach forward, squeezing his hand, "you're a really good friend." 

"And I better be the maid of honor at this wedding!" He jokes and you giggle in response.

Your dinner is delicious and informative. You can't wait to see Hotch again, this time with your guard down. 

"I can't believe you're going to meet him," you nudge Peter as you both walk to the bar that the team is drinking at. "Just don't blow our cover, okay?"

"How could I? Cindy used to be my boss too," Peter winks and you shove him playfully.

"I didn't know that!" You exclaim. 

"I guess you aren't as good at profiling as you thought!" He pokes fun at you.

"It's only because I haven't met her yet," you glare at him as he opens the door to the bar. 

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, telling Peter that you don't see the team yet and for him to sit at the counter. He listens and you're back before he even is able to order. 

"I can drive you home if you want to drink," you tell him and he takes your offer. 

"Can I get a whiskey on the rocks and the lady wants some water, _extra ice_ ," Peter hints at what happened in San Francisco.

"You heard!" You roll your eyes at him, making him laugh. 

"The bartender and I are friends," he explains, "he told me I helped the case by talking about single events." 

"Barely," you reply, not wanting to inflate his ego, "your lead was a dead-end but we solved it regardless." 

You and Peter chat up a storm for the next few minutes while you sip your ice cold water. Ever so often, Peter turns towards the door, wondering when your team is coming and you tell him they'll be here soon.

Except, that's a lie.

They're already here and you know they're profiling you and Peter right now, so you wanted to give them something worth profiling. 

"How long do you think they've been here?" Reid turns to Morgan. 

"It looks like they've been here for a while, probably got here before we did, just nursing their drinks," Morgan gestures to your glass, which is full of condensation. 

"Are you guys really profiling Y/N right now and the guy she's with?" Garcia raises her eyebrow at the both of them.

"You aren't?" Morgan replies, "and he's her date."

Prentiss chuckles, making Morgan turn to her so she responds, playing along, "oh, definitely. She met Peter back during the San Francisco case."

"Oh, I remember him!" J.J chimes in, seeing what Prentiss is doing, "they really hit it off. He even kissed her before he left. They must've stayed in touch." 

"Then she must've had a good vacation if he's in town right now," Rossi chuckles into his glass of whiskey, taking a sip. "I heard she moved out of your house, Aaron."

Hotch barely realizes that Rossi spoke to him, finally answering, "yeah, she did. She found an apartment nearby." 

"Convenient timing," Reid says flat out, "she goes on vacation, she gets a new apartment, she meets up with a date. It really only goes one way from here."

"And what do you know about this?" Morgan looks at Reid. 

"I have gone on dates," Reid glares back. 

"Any of them look like that?" Morgan gestures to the way Peter smiles at you, resting his hand on your thigh, while you stare deeply into his eyes. 

"I wonder if she's going to introduce us to him," Prentiss says with a smile. "I wonder if he has a brother." 

"He is cute," J.J looks over at you and Peter, "what did she say he does? Tech?"

Garcia pulls out her phone, checking on something, before saying, "holy shit, I know him."

"What?" Morgan's eyes widen, "how the hell do you know him?" 

"He's Peter Gallagher!" She shows everyone a photo of him on her phone plus an article about him, "his company practically revolutionized computer organization tools. The FBI uses his programs. They're beautifully written." 

"What is this exposé?" Rossi looks at the title of one of the articles, "America's Most Eligible Tech Bachelor?" 

"It says him and his wife recently separated," Garcia skims the article. "Y/N reeled in a good one."

"Enough," Hotch states sternly, making everyone turn to him, "we shouldn't meddle in Y/N's private life, or his. It's an invasion of privacy." 

"Sorry, sir," Garcia puts her phone away, turning away from Hotch's deadly glance. 

Prentiss and J.J just look at each other, before taking a sip of their drinks. Rossi chuckles, amused by the whole situation, while Reid and Morgan argue quietly over their profile of Peter. Hotch sighs, finishing his drink in one go. 

How many more will he have until you decide to notice that the team is already here? 

Suddenly, you feel a buzzing in your pocket and you excuse yourself, looking at your phone. It's Prentiss, which makes you laugh.

 _Get over here already, I sense an explosion incoming_. _\- Em_

"That's our cue," you tell Peter, grabbing his hand, taking him over to where the team has been watching you both from across the bar. 

"Y/N, it's nice to see you've made it," Rossi decides he wants to be the one to ask, "and who's this?"

"Everyone, this is Peter Gallagher," you gesture to Peter, then show him everyone at the table, "and these are Special Agents Rossi, Hotchner, Morgan, Reid, Garcia, Prentiss and Jareau." 

Peter turns to you, giving you a look that says, _you're going to make me guess who Aaron is, aren't you?_

You wink at him, then turn back to the team, saying, "sorry, I'm a little late. Though, how could any of you know? None of you have watches…" 

Rossi, Reid, Morgan and Hotch all look at their wrists and you were right. None of them were wearing watches. 

"Maybe that's because you all were too busy profiling us," you pull their watches out of your purse in a string, "to notice that they'd been stolen." 

You set the watches down on the table and Rossi lets out a laugh, saying, "I knew you couldn't have possibly not known we were here." 

"Caught me!" You smirk, turning to Morgan and Reid, resting your elbows on the table, looking innocently at them, "so, what did you guys figure out? Is Peter good in bed? Do I have something to look forward to?"

"Well, actually-"

"Reid, don't answer that," Hotch interrupts strictly, making you turn towards him.

"What did you figure out, Hotch?" You turn the question on him. 

"I think it's an invasion of Peter's privacy to say," he replies, staring you down. 

"Go ahead," Peter opens the floor gladly, "I don't mind." 

It feels like everything suddenly goes quiet as Hotch speaks, laying Peter's profile out in the open, "you're a tech mogul. Wealthy, overtly, given the way you decide to dress in comparison to Y/N."

"Rude," you fold your arms at him, but Hotch elects to ignore it, continuing. 

"You're borderline narcissistic, though you'd never admit it. Instead, you show it through the obsessive amount of hours you take at the gym or running with your dog. You're recently separated from your wife and it didn't take an article to figure that out." 

"And why do you say that?" Peter looks Hotch right in the eye. 

"You're too busy being in love with your self image to ever love someone else as fully as you could. She left you because of this. She was tired of your behavior. Your confidence is what drew her away. You're too bold, too rash. If Y/N knew we were here, then you did too, and you chose to openly flirt with her in front of her coworkers, regardless of how unprofessional that is. You are nothing but a one night stand, _at most_."

"Hotch, I think that's enough," Prentiss chimes in, "we got the picture."

"I sure did," Peter scoffs, then turns to you, saying, "do you mind taking my rental to the airport? I'm going to call a cab now. I don't think I should be here much longer."

"Of course," you pat him on the chest, "I got it."

Then, Peter pulls you in close, whispering in your ear, "he obviously likes you, given how blind he is."

You chuckle at his words, whispering back, "I'll let you know what happens after." 

"Keep in touch," he tells you in front of everyone, kissing you on the cheek before leaving. 

Then, you strategically exclaim, "tell your wife I said hello!" 

"Will do!" He waves goodbye before exiting. 

You turn to Prentiss and J.J, putting your hand out, saying, "pay up." 

They both roll their eyes at you and hand you twenty bucks each. 

"Wait, why wasn't I in on this!" Garcia asks, pouting. 

"I had to protect your innocent soul, baby girl," you gently squeeze Garcia's shoulder before leaning your head on it. 

You take a seat next to Garcia and the girls, asking for water from the waitress. 

"So, did you all enjoy the show?" You smirk. 

"How did we not see that he's still married…" Reid shakes his head, trying to figure out where he went wrong. 

"He doesn't wear a ring," Morgan answers.

"He's getting new ones," you reply, "a fresh start for their marriage!"

"What about the intimacy between the two of you?" Reid raises.

"I told him to act like we were together," you explain, "to manipulate the profile a little. It was all fake." 

"Trust me, he is in love with his wife," Prentiss adds, "he carried a photo of her in his wallet even while he was separated from her." 

"To think, we really lost this bet," J.J says with a sigh. 

"Wait, but what did you guys bet on?" Rossi asks, "you both helped Y/N maintain the manipulation, so you wanted her to succeed there." 

Prentiss and J.J look at each other then back at you and you all just chuckle, not answering. 

Garcia whispers to you, "what did you bet on?"

You answer her, making sure no one else can hear, "they bet I couldn't make Hotch explode and they lost." 

Garcia stares at you, impressed, and you giggle. 

The rest of the night is much calmer. They fill you in on what happened in Florida. As much as you want to drink, you abstain so that you can drive Peter's car back, which means you need to leave early, so you say goodbye to everyone and tell them you'll see them tomorrow. 

You quickly take the car back to the airport, signing off on Peter's documents for him. Then, you get a call, your phone buzzing in your pocket. 

"Hotch?" You answer, surprised.

"I'm at arrivals," he states, "meet me there." 

He then hangs up all of a sudden before you can get another word in and you look at your phone, your eyes wide. 

Wow, he's _pissed_. 

You hit dial and Peter answers, saying, "I guess I don't need to sleep for my flight tomorrow morning." 

You talk as you walk from the car rental to arrivals, "I think I fucked up, _bad_."

"I saw it coming," Peter admits, "especially how tilted his profile was of me. I don't work out _that_ much!"

"What do I do?" You let out a sigh, "he definitely doesn't find this funny. He didn't talk to me at all at the bar after you left. He just glared."

"Just go down on him."

"Peter!" You exclaim in the phone, making him chuckle.

"What? It works when Cindy's mad!" Peter confesses and you groan. 

"I don't think sex is going to get me out of this one," you bite your lip. 

"Alright, let me think," he deliberates over the phone, "okay, why don't you-"

"Get in," you suddenly hear Hotch's voice and you realize you're standing right next to his car.

 _Fuck_.

"Oh shit, is that him-"

You immediately hang up the phone, tucking it away before Hotch can see that you were on the phone, and get into the car. 

Hotch doesn't say a word the entire ride home and you can't find the words to say. He drives you to your building and walks with you upstairs. The elevator music makes your heart pound as the doors open and Hotch takes your arm, dragging you into your apartment, slamming the door behind the both of you. 

Then, the silence continues for far too long. You can hear your heart beating in your ear and your mouth dries up. You need to say something but you can't. 

Hotch turns to you, his hand still gripping your arm tightly, as he says, angrily, "what was the point of all of that? Do you just _like_ pissing me off?" 

"Hotch, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, I just thought it was-"

"What? What did you think?" He leans you up against the wall, his eyes piercing through you, "that it would be funny to pretend that you were seeing someone else?" 

"I mean, yeah, but I didn't think you'd think…it was mainly for Morgan and Reid," you tell him honestly. "Peter and I are just friends, Hotch. He's happily married to the love of his life and…I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have." 

"You say that and yet, look at what's happened," Hotch grits his teeth, absolutely pissed at everything. 

"I'm really sorry," you bite your lip, worried that everything was about to end here, so you plead, "but I swear, I haven't been with anyone but you since we've met. I only want to be with you."

"You make zero show of it," he says rather bluntly and you find his words harsh. 

"Because…how can I?!" You exclaim, "do you want me to tell the world that I only have eyes for you, that I dream of your hands on my skin, that I can't imagine ever losing you? I would if I could but we both know I can't."

You look right into his eyes, hoping he could see what you feel for him in yours. 

Hotch does see it, but right now, he's so blinded by fury. He knows he's the one who jumped to conclusions, but it didn't help that you were being so close with another man without even telling him. 

"You could've just told me he was married!" Hotch spits out. 

"Would that have changed anything?" You ask flat out. "It's obvious that-"

"What's obvious?" He grabs a hold of your arms, glaring at you. 

"That you're jealous of Peter!" You respond, squirming to get out of Hotch's grip. 

"I am not jealous of that narcissistic man," he clenches his teeth, his eyes low, still very angry. 

"Then what is it!" You exclaim, "just tell me!"

"You're too casual with other men," he replies, raising his voice, "you just-you let him touch you, for what? A joke? You throw around sex as if it's something that you can do with everyone. Is that what I mean to you? Just another dick to fuck?"

"Are you really this blind!" You raise your voice to match his, breaking out of his grip, "I have feelings for you, Aaron! I want to be with you, intimately and romantically. I'm not looking to fuck anyone else but you. You should know that if I wanted to sleep with someone else, I would've already!" 

You let out a couple of angry huffs, glaring up at him. Hotch stares back, stunned at your words, unable to say anything in response.

"I'm choosing to be with you," you say to him, your eyes locked on his, "so, please, don't make me regret opening my heart to you." 

You take a few deep breaths, trying to recollect your composure. Then, you feel Hotch wrap his arms around you, holding you tightly. 

"I'm sorry," he breathes out, "I should've trusted you."

"Yeah, _asshole_ ," you groan against his chest, not hugging him back. 

"I just…after what happened with Haley," Hotch confesses, much to your surprise, "I became so afraid of losing someone else I cared about, that I didn't allow myself to care about anyone, until you. Now, you're here and I…I don't even know how to act. I'm constantly worried I'm going to mess everything up again." 

"I'm not Haley," you respond, pulling him away from you to say, "what we have is completely different than what you had with your ex-wife, than what I had with any of my exes. Our relationship is so vastly unordinary that worrying about messing it up will only mess it up further. We're two fucked up people, Hotch, drawn to disaster, unable to look away. The feelings we share are unlike any other and all we can do is feel them. Ride the wave and hope that at the end of it, we make it out in one piece, together." 

Hotch takes a moment to listen to your words, to get a feel of what you mean. Then, he understands. Being with you isn't going to end in a cushy life, marriage or kids. 

It's going to be a hot mess, with twists and turns neither of you will ever see coming. 

And, he's in it, for the ride. 

"Then I hope we do make it out in one piece, Y/N," Hotch tells you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

"Don't count on it," you chuckle, your eyes meeting his again, your lips brushing up against one another.

The kiss feels hesitant at first, but slowly, you both melt into it, remembering the feeling of each other. You wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls your waist close to his, as his lips meld with yours. 

"I can't stop thinking about earlier," you breathe against his lips as his hand touches you through your jeans. You buck your hips at the feeling of his fingers poking at you. 

"I'll give you something to think about," he tells you as he takes you by the wrist, dragging you up to the bedroom, tossing you on the bed.

Hotch flips you over, so you're laying on your stomach, then you feel the cold handcuffs against your wrists, locking you to the bed frame. 

"Are we really doing this?" You tug at your restraints. 

"Just say the word and I'll take them off," he says, his hand slipping into your pants, rubbing you through your underwear. 

You squirm at the feeling, unable to hold yourself up, using your elbows as leverage to keep your body afloat. 

You let him keep you locked up because he can feel how soaked you are already at the thought. You bite your lip as he tugs off your jeans and underwear, leaving you exposed from the waist down. 

Since he's cuffed you the way he has, if he leaves your line of sight, you have no idea what he's doing, which means you have no clue what he has planned for you. 

That's why when he presses the vibrator against your clit, you nearly scream. 

"What are you doing?" You manage to get out as he pulls it away. 

"I told you," he says, putting a pair of underwear onto you, "I'm giving you something to think about." 

Hotch slides back into your line of sight to show you the remote in his hand. With one click, the vibrator attached to your underwear goes off, making your legs weak and your clit overstimulated. 

"How long have you been planning on something like this?" You grip the handcuffs you're wearing, trying to steady yourself. The vibrations are low but pulsing. You can't help but grind your hips at the feeling, wanting more. 

"Since San Francisco. I needed an alternative, in case I had to punish you again," he answers, hitting a button on the remote, turning off the vibrations completely. 

You whine, shaking at the loss of stimulation. Hotch smiles as he disappears from your sight and you're left to just lay there, cuffed to the bed, your face in your pillow, not knowing when he's going to push the button again. 

"Seriously!" You shout, assuming he's not in the room anymore. You heard footsteps, but you had no idea if he had actually left or he just wanted to make it seem like he did. 

Then, in the silence, you hear the sound of a click and your thighs clench together as a different rhythm of vibrations hit your clit. These ones are fast and long and you're terribly unprepared for this much power all at once. 

"Hotch, if you're there, p-please turn it off," you beg, your legs giving out. 

You hear the button click and you let out a sigh of relief, your body relaxing after having tensed up. Then, you feel his hand rubbing against your underwear, making you realize there's a slit in it, letting his fingers slide right on into you. You gasp, feeling his fingers inside of you for the second time today. 

"If you keep this up, you'll need to uncuff me," you tell him, "I'll end up hurting myself accidentally." 

Hotch pulls his fingers out of you, making you bite your lip, and then he uncuffs you, freeing your hands. You lay on your back, letting out heavy breaths, tired from both the stimulation and keeping yourself in that position. 

He stares down at you, saying, "I guess only one thing at a time." 

At that moment, he hits the button again and you reflexively push your hands towards your core, only for him to grab a hold of your wrists before you can pull away from the vibe. 

It's that slow, pulsing rhythm again and you moan involuntarily at the way it lays on top of you now that you're on your back. 

"Be a good girl and put your hands behind your back," Hotch instructs, letting go of your wrists. 

You listen, laying on top of your hands, gripping the sheets underneath as you feel his fingers enter you again. He uses his other hand to keep your legs spread, so you can't run from the feeling. 

"How do you come up with this shit?" You let out with a sigh of pleasure, his fingers spreading and curling inside of you. 

"There's a lot of things I want to do to you," Hotch says bluntly. 

"To think, the boring bossman has a naughty side," you tease, though you regret it instantly as he takes his thumb and pushes the vibrator harder against your clit, " _fuck_ , okay, okay, I take it back!" 

Hotch moves his thumb away, letting you breathe a bit, though the vibrations are still steady and his fingers are still thrusting into you. You felt your climax could come any second and it does, shooting you through you without any hesitation.

You grind against his fingers, riding it out, the vibrations sending you somewhere else completely with the overstimulation. You cry out for Hotch to turn it off, but he doesn't, and somehow in the mix, you orgasm again, gripping the sheets so hard underneath you that you might just rip them. He turns it off the moment you stop shaking, tucking the remote back into his pocket. 

You lay there, shivering from your intense orgasms, and Hotch pulls you into his arms. You let him hold you closely, taking the comfort, as the wave of pleasure slowly washes away. 

"One day," you whisper into his ear, "you're going to wake up with a cage over your cock and we'll see who's begging then." 

He scoffs, amused that your attempt to threaten him, but your eyes are very determined to get him back. 

"If there's a cage over my cock, who's going to fuck you then?" He asks, to which you reply with a smirk.

"You'll see," you wink and Hotch immediately glares at you. 

"Don't even _think_ about sleeping with another man in front of me," he says sternly. 

"Alright, I won't _think_ about it," you tease. 

Then, you hear the button click and you can't tug the underwear off in time as the faster, longer vibrations shoot through you, hammering against your sensitive clit.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" You plead, but Hotch doesn't let up, his hand over his pocket so you can't steal it from him. 

You grab onto his shoulders, holding yourself up as the vibrator buzzes underneath you, sending waves through the sheets. The next orgasm you have is completely out of nowhere and you whimper at the feeling rushing through you, biting your lip to stop yourself from screaming. 

He turns it off then and you breathe out heavy sighs of relief, before he asserts, "like I said, don't even think about it." 

"I understand," you say, laying back, too winded to stay upright. 

Hotch pulls off your underwear, tossing it aside. He just stares at your sensitive clit and your wet core, his hands sliding up and down your thighs. 

"Can you handle me right now?" He asks, both seductively and seriously, unbuckling his belt. 

You nod, replying, "I can handle you any day." 

"Good," he says before thrusting his entire length inside of you in one go. 

You're lucky you had just fucked him earlier today because if this was the first time you slept with him in three days, that would've definitely hurt. Instead, it feels amazing, having him inside of you again, filling you up completely. 

You pull him down towards you, wanting to kiss him, and he lets you. You press your lips against his as he slides in and out of you at a slow pace, wanting to feel every inch of you. 

"This is what I like the most," you sigh onto his lips, "the feeling of you inside of me." 

"I feel the same," he tells you, leaning in to kiss you again. 

As hot as all your other orgasms were, the one you get from the sheer intimacy of being filled by Hotch takes the cake. You shiver against him as you climax, feeling him thrust a bit faster to help you prolong it. He keeps his eyes on you the whole time and you smile at him as you breathe his name, telling him how good you felt. 

That's enough to make him release into you, filling you up again. You hold his hips against yours, not wanting him to go. 

"How did I leave you by yourself for three days?" He asks, looking at you with loving eyes. 

"You should've let me go with you," you say back with a grin. 

"Next time," he leans up to kiss your forehead, "I don't think I could ever leave you alone again." 

"I hope not," you sigh as he pulls away, rolling over next to you. 

"I'm sorry again about today," Hotch sincerely apologizes, "I was irrational, emotional. I wasn't thinking straight." 

"It's okay to have feelings," you take his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly, "but let's work on trusting each other." 

He nods, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek. You smile at his gentle kiss, kissing him back on the lips. You both then clean up and get ready for bed, falling asleep almost immediately in each other's arms.

Tomorrow is a new day, which means a new case. 

One that you're not looking forward to solving… 


	4. Cloud Burst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): The case involves child abduction/murder, though minimally graphic.

You wake up to the sound of a coffee machine whirring and the smell of ground coffee filling your senses. Stretching your arms up, you stare out the window as you breath in, enjoying the calm of the morning. 

Then, you hear footsteps coming up the stairs and Hotch has brought you a cup of coffee, setting his cup down at the nightstand before handing you yours. 

"What's the occasion?" You tease, sipping your coffee. It's just the way you like it. He must've remembered from when you ordered coffee before going to the mall. 

Hotch has this knack of remembering details you have pretty much forgotten. It's something in the profiler brain, you assume. Maybe one day you'll be that aware. 

"No occasion, I just wanted to test out the espresso machine," he tells you, grabbing his coffee. "I gave you the failed attempt."

"You're truly a piece of work, Hotch," you nudge him, trying to get him to spill his coffee, but his reflexes are better than you think. 

You opt to just enjoy his 'failed attempt' at making you a cup of coffee, watching the morning news. Hotch finishes his cup and gets dressed while you relax in bed, trying to finish yours. 

"Have you ever considered wearing anything different?" You ask, seeing him put on a full suit as always.

"What do you want me to wear?" He prompts, "do you want me to wear a t-shirt and jeans like Morgan?" 

"No, you aren't hot enough to pull it off," you smirk and he rolls his eyes at you, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

You take the last sip of your coffee then get up, grabbing the mug Hotch left, carrying it downstairs. You quickly add it to the dishwasher before hopping in the shower. With your body fully scrubbed clean, you look at yourself in the mirror. 

All your bruises have healed. There isn't an injury in sight anymore. Just a few barely noticeable scars. 

You wrap your towel around your body as you dry your hair so you can pull it up and away from your face, trying to look neat for your first day back. 

Then, you walk up to the bedroom closet and Hotch is sitting on the edge of the bed, typing something on his laptop, presumably answering emails. 

You decide to wear a short sleeved button up and a pair of comfortable slacks, then throw a cardigan over it. 

"Ready?" Hotch looks up, seeing you fully dressed. 

"Yeah," you say as you plop down next to him, pulling your socks on. "All good!"

You turn to Hotch and he smiles, leaning in to give you a quick kiss, before closing his laptop and dropping it into his briefcase. Then, you both head out, getting into his car, heading to the office. 

Immediately, Morgan tells you both that J.J has already found a case and that it's urgent. You all head straight for the conference room and J.J is standing at the front with a photo of a little boy. 

"Jeremy Umbridge, age six, last seen two weeks ago at a mall in D.C with his aunt and uncle," J.J clicks to the next photo, which shows his dead body in a creek, "cause of death, drowning, his body was found in a creek." 

"No signs of sexual assault?" Rossi asks and J.J nods.

"No visible signs of restraint or resistance either," she explains as she moves onto the next victim, "Terrence Chan, age ten, last seen a week ago at the same mall, found dead in a river. Cause of death, drowning." 

"Different races, different ages," Prentiss notes, "that's odd."

"The M.O is similar, with the cause of death and the bodies of water," Reid says, "but that's the only thing connecting these murders. Are we sure that these are related?"

"They are because these are the letters the parents received," J.J hands out copies for you all to read. 

The letters are cryptic and they are accompanied by a burner phone. 

"Your child will survive if you perform what is asked of you'," Rossi reads the red lettering aloud. "'If you do not heed this warning, and decide to contact the police, then you will never see your child alive again.'"

"The letters were dropped off to the parents' houses after their child was reported missing," J.J elaborates further, "both of the parents had contacted the police and…"

"Now they're paying for it," Hotch says and you catch a glimpse of concern in his eyes. 

"Another child has been reported missing," J.J clicks the next slide, "Owen Smith, age 4, last seen at the same mall. If I'm right, then the parents have already received the letter and after watching the news, they may not be reaching out to us."

"So what do we do?" You ask, new to all this. 

It seems like a rather precarious situation. There is a lot at risk, building a case against an unsub that threatens families based on police involvement. How can you catch the unsub if a child's life is at risk the moment you get involved?

"What did the D.C police have to say?" Hotch prompts, "did they invite us to investigate the case?"

"They did," J.J says, "but I don't believe they've linked Owen's disappearance to it just yet." 

"Good," Hotch turns to the team, "we keep this information between us. If we're going to catch the unsub, we'll need to know what the unsub told the parents. We'll slip up into teams. Reid and J.J will go to D.C police, work on the press and the geographical profile. Morgan and Prentiss will go to the Umbridges, Dave and I will go to the Chans. Garcia, I need you to look up all children reported missing after being abducted at that mall. Our list of victims may be longer than we expect. Send it all to Reid when you've compiled a list. Y/L/N, stay with Garcia, contact the mall, see if you can access surveillance footage of all the abductions. If an unsub can smuggle a child out of a mall, I want to know how they'd do it." 

Everyone nods and splits into their teams, heading out to their posts. You gather your things to join Garcia, but you're stopped by Hotch before he heads out. 

"Off the books," Hotch tells you in a low voice, "I want you to go check on the Smiths."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" You raise your eyebrow, "what if the unsub is watching?" 

"You're the least suspicious out of all of us," Hotch details, "I just need you to blend in and see how the unsub might deliver the letter. Would it be difficult, given the neighborhood, etc. It would help to know if he stalked his victims ahead of time, or if they're chosen based on opportunity at the mall." 

"Alright, I'll go after hours," you tell him, "Garcia and I will be in contact if we find anything."

"Keep me posted," he replies before heading out. 

You watch him walk away before grabbing your case notes and heading to Garcia's office. She sets up a cozy little corner for you to work with a laptop and a phone so you both get to work. 

"So, how long are you on the bench?" Garcia asks, a bit of teasing in her voice. 

"Maybe a few days," you reply truthfully, clicking through surveillance footage as you talk, "honestly, I'm glad to be out of the field for this case."

"It's difficult when it comes to missing children," she frowns, finding another abduction at the mall. 

"It's the parents' I'm worried about," you sigh, "I just can't imagine the guilt. The police are supposed to help you, but the moment you reach out, you're now to blame for your child's death. I couldn't live with that." 

"I don't think any of us could," she admits truthfully, "I mean, look at Hotch. I'm sure this case is hitting him hard, especially if we can't connect these victims." 

"Why do you say that?" You question, curious.

"Well, if we don't find anything connecting these seemingly random abductions, then the victims can be anyone's kid," she answers, shivering at the thought, "imagine being a parent and not knowing if your kid will ever be safe again." 

"You make a terribly good point," you feel a pit in your stomach, an ache forming. "Will you excuse me for a moment?" 

Garcia nods and you head out, going straight to the bathroom. You then puke into the toilet, clutching your stomach. You should really listen to Hotch about eating breakfast. You feel the cup of coffee from this morning along with last night's dinner coming right up, leaving your stomach emptier than ever. 

You can't get the pictures out of your mind. Those poor kids. It feels like you have a hole in your stomach and you hoped the feeling would go away so you could focus on the case. 

You take a deep breath, before wiping your mouth with a tissue, throwing it into the toilet then flushing it. After washing your hands thoroughly, you pull your phone out, calling Haley.

"Hey, what's up?" She picks up after the first ring. 

"I'm just calling to check in on you," you say kindly. 

"You're sweet," she tells you, "I'm…alright, considering everything's that happened."

"I guess that's as good as you can be, I'm glad you're alright," you reply. Then, you hesitate for a moment, before just spitting out, "have you been watching the news lately, about the abductions?"

"Yeah, I hear about those kids…so sad what happened to them. I hope their parents are alright. I have always steered clear of that mall, thankfully," Haley reassures you. 

"Right," you let out a sigh of relief, "stay safe out there. You and Jack." 

"Thank you, you too," she says back, "and, watch Aaron for me, will you? He…gets so caught up in work, _especially if it involves children_."

"I'll keep him in check," you respond, "call me anytime, if you need anything."

"Will do, same to you," she answers, before hanging up. 

You flip your phone off then look at your reflection in the mirror. Somehow, you look so tired already and the day has barely begun. You could already feel the weight of this case on your shoulders. It scared you. 

You knew you weren't supposed to mention anything about the case to anyone outside of it, but you had to do what Hotch couldn't. If you had to take the fall for keeping his family safe, you'd take it a million times over. 

You'd do anything for him. 

You go back to Garcia and she fills you in with what the team told her. The parents had explained that the unsub told them that they have three days to follow the instructions that would be sent to the mobile, which promptly died after the message came in. Neither of them waited for the message and decided to contact the police instead. They both regret it. 

"So we don't know what instructions they would've been given…" You bite your lip, hating the way this case is going already. 

"And we have no idea of knowing, because the moment the family contacts the police, their child ends up dead in a river somewhere," Garcia says the blunt truth and you're surprised to hear her so livid, to which she responds, "sorry, I…I try to see the positive in everything, but this case just screams evil." 

"It really does…" You scratch your head, turning back to the footage you've been sent, "did you make that list yet?" 

"Yes, I did," she hands you a printed copy, "it has the date, times and all the information of any children who went missing in that mall." 

"Thanks," you start sifting through the footage. 

From what you see, mall surveillance is limited. There's so many entryways and exits that are easily obscured. You circle blind spots on the blueprint of the mall where you know any thief/criminal could easily avoid camera detection. 

Which begs the question, is the unsub aware of this, or were they, somewhere in the mix, caught on film? 

You really have no idea of knowing. 

You sift through the footage an hour before and an hour after Jeremy and Terrence's abductions. You track their movements. You see them drift off, but there isn't anything necessarily strange about it. They weren't lured, to be clear. It looks like they lost track of the people they were with. They happened to fall behind and that's enough for the unsub to swoop in and pick them up. 

You watch them disappear from the cameras and you can't find any footage of them after that. You scroll back, watching the footage from the start of the day, looking out for people who seem to be loitering around or scouting. But, you find no one who stands out. 

The thing about abductions is…much like stealing, you have to profile your target before you can make the swipe. A sloppy thief will miss their mark rather disastrously, while a seasoned professional could go undetected without the person even realized they've ever lost something. 

Now, escalate that idea to people, specifically children. This unsub, whoever they are, they're knowledgeable enough to know which kids are likely enough to stray from the group, which kids are easy to grab.

This unsub picks based solely on opportunity. 

"You didn't find anything connecting the victims, did you?" You turn to Garcia and she shakes her head.

"I got nothing, they're vastly different," she pulls up their profiles.

You browse, seeing that the signs point clearly to random abductions. 

You immediately call Hotch, who puts you in speaker, and say, "the unsub we're looking for picks his targets at random. He has knowledge of mall security. He must've canvassed the mall prior to the abductions, so I'm focusing my energy on seeing if I can pinpoint people who happen to be there in the days before and the day of."

"How did he get them out of the mall?" Hotch asks you. 

"The children are not lured away. They simply fall behind for a split second and then the unsub strikes, though I am unsure of how. The footage has terrible blind spots," you explain, faxing over your marked up map, "anyone with knowledge of camera placement could figure out how to dodge these. I would say maybe we should look into former/possibly current mall security, or anyone else who would have regular access to the footage and cross reference with whatever preliminary profile we have." 

"You and Garcia can look into it together," he instructs. "We'll send the base profile over." 

"Yes sir," you reply, then hang up. 

Garcia pulls up employees who have access to the footage and you both spend time seeing if anyone fits. The preliminary profile is very…brief. The team has concluded, at least partially, that the unsub is a man who gains satisfaction from the torture of the parents of the victims. By taunting them with their children's death in the case of police involvement, it's suspected that the unsub has some knowledge of law enforcement and must reside locally. Whoever the unsub is, he has the time to keep watch over the parents, to ensure he knows of any police involvement. 

You rub your eyes after not blinking for what feels like hours, just sifting through camera footage. You look back at the footage from when other children had been reported missing after going to that mall. You doubt there's any connection because all these kids were found immediately, but you decide to watch the footage anyways. 

Much like the other kids, they just happened to stray away from whoever they were with. It just seems unlucky, but maybe they just got lost and didn't know who to ask for help…though isn't that what mall security is for? 

You call Hotch and ask, "are you going to the mall?" 

"Morgan and Prentiss are heading over there," he tells you, "why?"

"It's just strange," you explain, "these kids…it looks like they got lost for a bit. Wouldn't mall security have seen them, if they're doing rounds? A confused kid should be a red flag for these people…they must've remembered seeing them. Also, if we want a bit of victimology, all the kids who went missing from the mall are young boys from the ages 4-12. A steep range, considering there's no other patterns, but at least that's something?" 

"I'll let the team know your thoughts, we'll vet the security and see if anyone had talked to these boys prior to them going missing." 

"How are things on your end?" You inquire, feeling strange not being fully in the loop. This must be how Garcia feels most of the time, just waiting for a call to know what's new. 

"The parents are devastated," he replies in a tired, sad tone, "there's not much we can do with the information given. Autopsy confirms that the drownings took place very close to when we found the bodies."

"Nothing unusual?" You find it odd, the drowning. 

It's an uncommon way of killing, since it can be slow, but perhaps the unsub likes to watch the kids suffer as well as the parents. Drowning can have a certain kind of power to it, especially if the unsub held them down, but that doesn't seem like the case.

"They were starved, but not dehydrated," Hotch explains to you, "and there wasn't dirt underneath their fingernails." 

"They didn't fight back during their drowning?" You're baffled.

"It doesn't look like they were drowned where they were found," he responds, "which is only more concerning. We haven't figured out where the unsub could be holding these boys before they're killed, but we don't have much time to find Owen Smith if he's the next victim." 

You let out an exhausted sigh into the phone, rubbing your temples. 

"You should take a break," he urges you, "grab some lunch, before it becomes dinner." 

"Will do, sir," you tell him before hanging up. 

You're still in a shared space with Garcia, so you can't act too out of line, as much as you wanted to talk to Hotch a bit more personally. You could use some comforting words right now. 

"I heard lunch," Garcia turns to you, "should we call it quits for a bit?"

"I'd love that," you get up, stretching, "I've never eaten at the cafeteria here before." 

"Oh, well you're in for a treat!" She grabs you by the arm and drags you over to the cafeteria. 

It's the standard cafeteria with buffet options. All the food is included in your salary, which is nice, though you barely get to utilize it since you're never there. You pick out a few things that look good, along with some ginger ale to soothe your churning stomach. 

"Are you alright?" Garcia sees you wince, grabbing your stomach. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," you tell her, trying to fight through it, "I think I'm just going through some phantom pains from the incident." 

"I'm sorry to hear that," she frowns. "Hopefully some food will help."

You nod, picking at your food. Your mind feels like it's somewhere else. You just sit, listening to Garcia ramble as she eats. You like hearing her talk, it makes the time go by a bit quicker. You manage to finish your food and sip on your ginger ale, finally having the attention span to listen to her talk.

"Can you believe it's raining?" She points to the window. 

You turn and see the heavy rain hit the glass. You didn't even realize it was raining today. You must've not paid attention to the news. 

"I guess I'm getting soaked tonight," you say with a smirk. 

"I have an extra umbrella in my office if you need it," she offers, not catching your joke. 

"That would be nice," you chuckle, "thank you." 

You clean up your tray and then take your drink back to Garcia's office. You decide to help Garcia sift through current and past security at the mall, seeing if anyone seems to stand out, but no one hit the mark. 

Today feels like a bust, but you're hoping the team had a bit more luck when they all file back after a long day of traveling back and forth. 

Reid has built up a geographical profile, pinpointing the triangulated area where the unsub either resides and/or is keeping the kids, while working on the linguistic one based off the wording in the letters. 

Prentiss and Morgan vetted the mall security, who have been aware of the holes in their cameras but there's nothing they can do about it, given the budget. They talked to as many witnesses as they could, but no one saw anyone who seemed suspicious. 

Hotch and Rossi dealt with the parents, looked through all the houses to tie something together for victimology. All these boys frequented the mall often, either with parents or with family members, since it is close to their home. It is a normal occasion, which might have led to someone keeping a watchful eye on them. 

J.J alerted the media to warn people to keep track of their children and not to allow them to stray too far from the crowd. Many of which will probably end up avoiding the mall entirely.

You look at the clock and you determine it's time to head out to check on the Smiths. Prentiss offers to drive you and you accept after getting the word from Hotch. She takes you over there, parking a few blocks away. You open Garcia's umbrella and get out, walking the rest of the way, carrying a box in your hand, looking like a courier. 

As you walk, you look around, trying to see what kind of neighborhood you're in. It's relatively safe. The neighbors have security cameras. You try to see if any of them may have had an angle on the house, but none of them do. It makes sense to point cameras at your own house, not other ones. You sigh, standing across the street from the Smiths. 

The lights are on inside. They're home. You wonder how they're doing. Did they have family over? If you could, you would if this was happening to you.

You can't fathom the potential loss of a child, to lose them to the unknown. 

You decide to walk across the street, the rain getting in the way of a clear shot at what's going on in the window. When you make it there, you notice something. 

There's blood on the porch, a puddle of it gathered on the wood, getting washed away slowly by the rain. 

The sound of raindrops falling fill your eardrums and your heart begins to pound. You put your hand on your gun, your eyes widening with worry, as you approach the door. 

Then, you knock, saying, "excuse me?"

There is hesitation. You see the figures beyond the curtains move. You grip your gun tightly behind your back, anxious that you weren't smart enough to call for backup. 

A man answers the door. It's Mr. Smith. You let out a sigh of relief, having seen his photo in the missing persons report. 

"Yes?" He asks, "who are you?"

"I have a package for Michael Henderson," you show him the fake package you're holding, taking your hand off your gun, "are you Mr. Henderson?"

He looks at the package and then huffs, saying, "this is Locke St, with an 'e'. Lock St is a few miles north. This happens all the time, I'm sorry, you have the wrong address." 

"Oh, my apologies," you pull the box away, "it's so hard to read in all this rain." 

"Right," he nods, looking relieved. In that moment, you take a good look at him. Then, at his wife who is eyeing you from the hallway. 

Along with his son, who is sitting at the dinner table, looking as pale as ever.

"Sorry for the intrusion," you say kindly, not wanting your shock to seem apparent in your face, "I hope you all have a nice dinner." 

You quickly leave, nearly forgetting to put your umbrella back up. You let yourself get a bit drenched before realizing, pulling the umbrella back over you as you briskly walk back to Prentiss. 

When you get into the car, she asks, "so, how are they?"

You turn to her and say with a puzzled expression on your face, "Owen Smith was there. He's been found." 

"Wait, what?" Prentiss pulls her phone out, putting it on speaker as she calls the DC police, inquiring, "the boy who went missing yesterday, Owen Smith, what do we know about him?"

"His parents found him a few hours ago wandering in a park nearby their house," the officer reads the report aloud, "it's a closed case." 

"Ah, I see, thank you," she says before flipping her phone off, turning to you, "this is creepy."

"Not as creepy as the blood I found on their porch," you take out your phone, showing her a shitty photo of it. Then, you dig into your pocket, pulling out a medical bracelet you had picked out of his pocket, "or this bracelet saying that yesterday, Mr. Smith was emitted into the E.R, only to be released a few hours ago." 

"Do you think this can all be connected?" Prentiss stares at the bracelet in your hand. 

"I don't know, but I'm not looking forward to finding out," you say before you wince in pain, clutching your stomach, a piercing cramp hitting you all of a sudden.

"What's wrong?" She puts her hand on your shoulder, staring at you clenching your face tight.

"I-I've been having these phantom pains all day," you groan, trying to force away the pain, "the medics said that this could happen if I overexerted myself." 

"Let me get you home, I'll head back to the office and tell the team what you found," she turns on the car and drives off. 

You spend the ride trying to make sense of everything. 

If Owen is safe, then does that mean his disappearance has nothing to do with the murders? Could he really just have gotten lost? 

The mall was a bit far from his house and he was only four years old, but he was gone for almost 24 hours. Someone would've seen him if he was out and about. He would've asked someone for help…right?

"We're here," Prentiss emergency parks in front of your building, saying, "I like the new place. Invite me over sometime and feel better, okay?"

"I will, thank you," you pat her on the back before getting out, leaving Garcia's umbrella, "return this for me."

"Got it," she says with a smile, waving goodbye.

You watch her drive off, your hand still over your aching stomach. You make your way into your building and up the elevator to the top floor. Then, you walk into your apartment, tossing your keys aside, locking the door promptly. 

You realize you haven't done any shopping and you pray that Hotch had some kind of bubbly beverage to soothe your woes. Opening the fridge, you're thankful to see some sparkling water. You pour a glass over some ice, sipping it as you stare out at the rain covering your windows. 

It's a beautiful sight. 

You don't know how long you were aimlessly staring out the window, but your phone rings after some time and you pick it up, saying, "hello?"

"It's me," Hotch's voice enters your ear. 

You didn't even look at the caller ID. You really shouldn't answer the phone until you've looked. 

"How's everything going?" You ask, taking the last sip of your drink, setting the cup of ice on the counter. 

"Prentiss told me about your encounter with the Smiths," he says, "why didn't you tell me you were going to talk to them?"

"I barely talked to them," you tell him, "I just had to come up with a reason to be in the neighborhood in the first place."

"You need to run those things by me. I need to approve of tactics like that," Hotch scolds you and you sigh.

"I'm sorry, I will next time," you assure him. 

The pain in your stomach comes back and you bite your lip, not wanting to worry Hotch. 

"Also," he suddenly goes, "Haley called me."

"Oh?" You act surprised. 

"She told me that since I'm working a case here, I should go see Jack while I'm in town."

"That's great, you should," you can already feel the lecture coming. 

"Y/N," Hotch says in a lower voice, before you hear the door closed. Then, he asserts, "next time, I'll have to write you up if you tell civilians about what cases we're working." 

"I know, I'm sorry, I-"

He cuts you off before you can finish to say, "thank you for worrying about my family. I appreciate it, but you need to be more cautious."

"Of course," you tell him, "I won't do it again."

"You better not," he says in a more relaxed tone. "Now, Prentiss told me you aren't feeling well. I can take you off the case, so you can rest, if need be-"

"I'm fine," you say, though the headache forming in your mind says otherwise, "I've just been staring at a computer all day. I don't have Garcia's patience."

"I don't think any of us do," he makes a joke. 

But you don't laugh. 

"Y/N?" Hotch seems surprised at your lack of reaction. "Are you there?"

Then, he hears a thud on the line. Your phone drops to the ground, a crash is heard. It sounds like broken glass. 

"Y/N!" He shouts through the phone but there's no answer.

Hotch quickly grabs his office landline, dialing 9-1-1, asking frantically for an ambulance and police to be sent to your address. Then, he rushes out of his office, not even having the time to grab his things. He rushes through the rain, his phone against his ear, begging you to say something.

"Please," he pleads into the phone as he turns on his car, "just tell me you're still there. Say something, Y/N." 

If only you could hear him…but you're laying on the cold floor of your apartment, completely knocked out, in a pool of your own blood, with nothing but the rain echoing through your end of the phone.

To think, the sound of the rain could be so eerie… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a new case begins! Though, it looks like you might have a bigger problem at hand...


	5. Heavy Rain

It all feels so surreal. 

Hotch arrives at your apartment building and there's already cop cars and an ambulance there. He flashes his FBI badge and they let him through. He combs through the officers to get to your front door. 

Then, _he sees you_. 

The medics are putting you onto a stretcher and there's blood all over your clothes. He looks around your apartment. 

A glass had dropped onto the floor, a few pieces of ice still melting, mixing in with your blood. Your phone is off to the side, still opened. You dropped it mid-call, after all. 

"What happened?" He asks the medics.

"We're unsure, but it seems like she fainted, though we can't determine where the blood is coming from," one of them replies as the other starts to move your body out of your apartment, "are you-"

"I'm her boss, she's a federal agent," he explains, showing his ID, interrupting before the medic can get too personal, "we were on the phone about a case when she…"

"She is still breathing, just in a lot of pain, and we'll need to run a few tests," the medic tells him as they put you on a morphine drip, "we'll be at a nearby hospital. You can come with us, but we'll need privacy in the ambulance." 

"Okay, thank you," Hotch tries to hold his composure, but the pained expression on your face makes it difficult. 

The medics take you into the ambulance and Hotch follows them in his car to the E.R. 

For the next few hours, he sits in the waiting room, with all sorts of scenarios plaguing his mind. He knew this was completely unrelated to the case and Prentiss had already noted that you were feeling unwell, but he just wished you had told him sooner that you were feeling ill.

He regrets letting you work, he knew he should've let you rest. He finds more and more ways to blame himself for what happened, even though he knows you'd never see it that way. 

The doctor comes out to the waiting room and calls for him, saying, "she's awake and she asked for you." 

Hotch nods, getting up, feeling strained from head to toe. It was well late into the night, around 5am. It doesn't look like he'll be sleeping before heading to the office.

However, the moment he sees your eyes opened, a wave of relief washes over him.

"Hey," you say in a tired voice, "did I keep you up?"

"You would've told me to go home and sleep," he responds and you chuckle.

"Of course I would, but I know you wouldn't have listened to me," you reply, sitting up slightly, clutching your stomach.

Hotch reaches out, trying to help you, but you wave him off, being able to do it yourself.

The doctor then turns to Hotch and goes, "I want to discuss the results with Ms. Y/L/N, so if you could…"

You see Hotch tense up, not wanting to leave your side after having seen you in the position you were in. You knew he couldn't ask to stay. No one knew you were together and you assumed the hospital staff didn't either. 

"It's alright," you tell her, reassuring him with your words, "he can stay. There's no secrets between us. If there's something wrong, he'll find out about it."

The doctor looks at you with worried eyes. She clutches the paperwork in her hand securely. There's tension and you wonder why. 

"It's…a very personal matter, Ms. Y/L/N," the doctor reiterates, "are you sure you want him here?"

You look up at Hotch, who has his hand gripping the side of your bed, anxious, and you say, "I do want him here so, please, just tell me what happened to me." 

"Okay," the doctor swallows for a moment, taking a deep breath, before revealing, "we performed some tests on you and we have determined that… _you suffered a miscarriage_." 

The air in the room grew immediately still. Your face goes pale and Hotch begins to grip the side of your bed so hard that his knuckles are white. You place your hand over his and he loosens his grip, though you knew his heart was beating just as fast as yours was.

She continues, "it was a complete miscarriage. You had expelled all of the tissue from your body, which resulted in massive bouts of pain, enough to make you faint. That's the blood we found on your body."

The doctor hands you the medical report, but you don't choose to open it right now. You just let her speak, illustrating everything. You don't think you could read it right now, even if you wanted to.

"From our estimate, you weren't very far along on your pregnancy," she elaborates, "only about a week or two at most. According to your recent medical reports, you had suffered intense physical trauma to your lower abdomen." 

Suddenly, the flashes of getting kicked in the stomach fill your vision and you nearly puke, putting your hand over your mouth. Hotch quickly grabs a hold of you, trying to comfort you, looking for something to give you, but you shake him off, telling him you're fine. 

"We believe that the physical trauma, coupled with the stress of a new job and your medical history, caused the miscarriage. I'm so sorry, Ms. Y/L/N," the doctor tells you sympathetically. "Since it was a complete miscarriage, you are set to leave whenever you feel you're ready. I would advise taking it easy for a while and maybe seeking some additional support, though it seems like you've been through this before, so I'll leave you to get some rest."

When she exits the room, you look down at the medical report then up at Hotch. The expression on his face is almost unreadable. 

It's a mix of all sorts of emotions. 

"Hotch, there was no way I could've known," you take his hand in yours, "I rarely get my period, so being late is…I promise I would've told you had I known-"

"Y/N, this isn't about me, so please don't worry about me," he looks you in the eye, taking a hold of both of your hands in his, saying, "tell me how you're feeling."

"I-" You open your mouth to say something, but the words don't really form.

How are you feeling? 

You didn't really know how to answer that. 

"The doctor said you had been through this before, what did she mean?" 

There's so much concern in his eyes and all you wanted was for him not to worry about you. 

"She isn't referring to anything recent, if that's what you think," you reassure him, letting out a brief sigh, before explaining, "I've had sporadic periods all my life, sometimes I wouldn't get them for months. Then, when I lost my parents, I got into some trouble. I got wrapped up with the wrong people, people who hurt me, most of which was physical. There's a lot of damage there that can't be fixed, which makes me prone to miscarriages. That's why I say I'm infertile. It's…unlikely that I could ever carry a child to term, given what happened."

Then, you see Hotch grit his teeth and you know it's because he wants to know who hurt you. You reach up, touching his cheek with your hand, grinning lightly, appreciating that you have someone who cares by your side.

"They're in jail," you tell him, "I made sure they got locked up. That's why I joined the FBI after all. I couldn't let people like that get away with it." 

He lets out a sigh of relief, holding onto your hand against his face. 

"You're as tough as nails, do you know that?" Hotch says and you act shocked.

"A compliment?" Your eyes widen, speaking like your normal self, "wow, I should go to the hospital more often!"

He shakes his head at your joke, though you manage to get a small smile out of him. 

"You should go get some sleep," you glance over at the clock, "they'll need you back in the office soon."

"I can't leave you, not after what happened," he stares at you, determined to stay.

"Aaron, please," you beg, "I'll feel better if you get some rest. Don't make me worry about you."

After fighting the determination in your eyes, Hotch decides to let you win this one. He nods, leaning in to kiss you. He holds his lips against yours, wanting to savour it, before pulling away. 

Then, he opens his mouth to say something, but closes it before he can, getting up. 

You know what's on his mind. 

It's on yours too. 

So, before he goes, you turn to him and say, "if I had known, I would've done anything to keep our child alive." 

With his hand on the doorknob, Hotch takes a momentary breather and then looks back at you, saying, "I know. You'd make a great mother, Y/N." 

"And you're a great father, Aaron," you say with a kind grin. "Now, go get some sleep. You don't want to be tired when you see Jack." 

Hotch gives you a soft, meaningful smile, before leaving.

When the door shuts, you lay back down on the bed, as the tears you held in slowly fall from your eyes. 

To think, you never once even thought about having kids but now…you wished you had the chance to. 

Life never does go the way you want it to, though. You knew it from the beginning. You could never live that cushy life, the one you had once considered. It just wasn't possible, even if you found someone you would've wanted to live such a life with. 

You fall asleep, crying over your broken heart, thankful that you're alone… 

Hotch spends most of his remaining hours before he has to go back to the office tossing and turning in his empty bed, in his empty house. 

It feels so strange, not having you by his side, especially after everything that happened. 

From what you said, there was no way you would've been able to save that child, with or without the trauma. 

Though, Hotch can't help wonder what would've happened if you could've kept the child, like you said you would've. He falls asleep, dreaming of a life with you, raising a kid, being happy. 

The worst things about dreams are that they're just that, _dreams_. 

When he wakes up two hours later, at around 8am, he texts you, not wanting to call in case you had fallen asleep. 

Then, Hotch hears a vibration echoing through his house. His eyes widen and he quickly gets up, walking downstairs to see you sitting at his kitchen counter, eating a piece of toast, your phone in your other hand, reading his text. 

"You know, maybe breakfast ain't half bad," you tease, setting your phone down to butter another piece of toast as Hotch looks at you, completely taken back at the sight of you. 

You slide over the buttered toast on a plate until it lands right in front of him. It's in that moment he realizes you're actually here.

"How did you…" 

"I still have the key," you say before taking a bite of your toast, saying between chews, "plus there's a mess at my apartment that's being cleaned up and I don't really want to be there for that."

"Why aren't you at the hospital?" Hotch decides to ask instead.

"We have a case to work," you dust off the crumbs on your hands in the sink. "I'm not going to leave the team hanging, especially when I'm cleared to work."

"You're off the case," he tells you, "I can't let you work after you collapsed yesterday."

"The doctor says I'm fine," you repeat, holding the report in your hands, "I read it through. My vitals are all clear. My system has been flushed. I'm good to go." 

"Just because you're ready physically doesn't mean you're ready," he asserts, "you just went through a miscarriage, Y/N. This isn't something you should brush off."

"There's more important things to focus on," you say back, trying to convince him, "we have two murders to investigate. I can sit back with Garcia again, if that'll make you feel better, but I'm not quitting halfway through this case."

Hotch walks up to you, taking you by the shoulders, staring right into your eyes, saying sternly, "there's nothing more important than you right now." 

Then, he pulls you in for a hug and you stand there, not moving, shocked by his words.

"It's okay to be sad," he tells you calmly, carefully, holding you tightly in his embrace, "I know I am." 

For some reason, you weren't expecting this. You knew Hotch cared deeply about you, but…you never thought you'd hear him say it out loud. Nor did you ever think that he'd feel sad over something like this. 

Beyond his stoic demeanor was a man who looked at you with so much love that it would take a blind person not to see it. There's still so much doubt in your heart but…somehow, he finds a way to melt it all away. 

You lean into him, into his warmth, wrapping your arms around him. Then, you close your eyes, listening to his gentle heartbeat, as the tears fall down your cheeks uncontrollably. You don't know where they came from, but you knew you needed to let them out. 

"I've never…had anyone here for me, during one of these," you confess, holding onto him, "I don't really know…what I'm supposed to do now…"

"You don't need to do anything," he rubs your back comfortingly as he says, "everyone grieves differently." 

You nod into his chest, breathing in the smell of him, sighing. 

Was that it? The feeling plaguing you? 

It's…grief. 

You're grieving a loss and you couldn't even comprehend it until now. 

You never thought you'd feel torn up about something you had known for so long and yet, here you were, crying in the arms of the man who cared so much about you. Hotch lets you cry. He holds you for as long as you need him too. 

He's there for you, something you never knew you needed before in a lover. 

"Thank you," you say as you wipe the last tears from your eyes, "for being there for me."

"I always want to be there for you," he holds your cheek in his hand and you sink into his warm palm, completely melting at his kindness. 

"When did you do this?" You ask and Hotch looks at you, puzzled. 

"Do what?" 

You meet his eyes and then say with a gentle smile, "when did you steal my heart?"

He brushes his calloused thumb lightly against your cheek, your words aiming right for his heart. 

"I learned from the best," he responds, matching your smile with a small one of his own. 

Hotch leans in, kissing you, and you wish he never had to let go. You wanted to feel the comfort of his lips forever. Your arms pull him in closer, missing the feeling of being near him. 

You both kiss each other for what feels like an eternity, then Hotch pulls away to say, "I should stop us here, before it gets too far." 

You nod, moving away, saying, "so, can I still work the case?"

He takes a deep breath then goes, "fine, but I'm having Garcia set you up in your apartment to work remotely."

"I can live with that," you answer.

Quickly, Hotch gets ready and then drives you back to your apartment. The cleaners have finished up nicely and it's like nothing ever happened in your apartment. You kiss Hotch goodbye, not wanting to be alone but knowing he needs to go. 

"I'll be back soon," he reassures you, before heading out to the office. 

Garcia arrives promptly after Hotch leaves with the laptop and phone you had been using, connecting it to a remote server, making sure that everything is secure over your internet connection.

"How are you feeling?" She asks you. 

Hotch had ensured that no one would know you went to the E.R last night, so you reply, "much better, but Hotch wants me to stay home and get completely better before going back so this was my compromise."

"It's a good idea. You can get take out instead of cafeteria food," she jokes and you giggle. 

"I'll give you a call if I need any help," you say as Garcia exits. 

You spend the next few minutes remembering how to work the programs Garcia gave you a crash course on yesterday. Then, you decide to look back at ths list of missing children. 

All of the cases are closed, which means either the child was found or…the alternative. You shake off the nasty thoughts and focus on the ones where the children were found, since none of the children who were found dead had died of drowning. 

You notice then that there are three cases where the children were found 24 hours later. 

You pull up those files, looking at the reports. 

You write the dates down, including the dates of Jeremy, Terrence and Owen's disappearances:

January 16. February 15. March 18. May 6. May 13. May 20.

Now what did all these dates have in common?

You could say they were all nearby holidays. Martin Luther King Jr Day, Valentine's Day, St Patrick's Day, Cinco de Mayo, but after that, it breaks and goes week by week.

So, if these cases are connected, which is still only a theory, the unsub chooses holiday weekends specifically. 

Why? 

Bigger crowds, easier for children to get lost in the mix, more targets. It makes sense. Less people to be accurate witnesses.

Now, why the break from holiday weekends? Why the escalation? 

You quickly phone Garcia, "hey, do you think you can check something for me?"

"Anything for you, sugar," she says sweetly.

"Can you pull up Grant Matthews's file?" You tell her the first boy who went missing on your list.

"Got it in front of me," she announces, "what do you need me to dig?"

"Do you have access to medical records?" You ask.

"Depends, what do you need?" She seems curious.

"Can you check to see if his father was admitted into the E.R the same day he went missing?" 

After a few clicks, Garcia answers, "yes, he went in that night, around 9pm."

"What did he go there for?" You ready your pen and paper, to scribble on your notes. 

"He severed his pinky finger," she replies, "cut it clean off."

"How did he do that?" You cringe.

"No idea, it's not listed," she explains, "honestly it seems like he was in and out of there pretty quick, given the time stamps."

You think back to the medical bracelet Mr. Smith had. You think back to the way he had hidden his hand behind his back, but you could swear you saw bandages on it.

So, you ask Garcia about the other cases you think are connected and…all the fathers were admitted to the E.R the day their children were kidnapped. 

Each father lost one finger, Mr. Matthews being the first, Mr. Smith being the most recent.

Pinky. Ring. Middle. Index.

You call Hotch and say, "you need to find these parents."

"Fill us in," he tells you, putting you on speaker.

"The unsub specifically plans his abductions around holiday weekends, which allow him access to more chaotic crowds. Then, he kidnaps the kids and delivers the message to their parents," you spill out what you've discovered to the team.

"Do you have any idea what this message might be?" Rossi asks you.

"I do," you explain, "I think the unsub is after the fathers, more specifically, their fingers." 

"Why their fingers?" Prentiss sounds disgusted and you would be too.

"Perhaps he, himself, is mutilated, maybe by his own father," Reid answers, "so he does this as a way to even the playing field." 

"How did you come up with this?" Morgan decides to ask and you continue your explanation. 

"Each father, after losing a finger and being admitted into the E.R, miraculously receives his child back in less than 24hrs. The catch are Jeremy and Terrence, whose fathers did not give up a finger, causing the unsub to escalate his timeline and kidnap Owen, then Mr. Smith gives up his index finger for his son's return. This unsub has a compulsive need to fulfill his goal, which is why he strayed from his pattern of holiday weekends." 

"He wants a complete set," J.J says rather horrified. "And it's already another holiday weekend right now, Memorial Day."

"If this unsub gets his thumb…" Morgan begins to say. 

"We might just lose him for good," Rossi fills in the rest. 

"I think Grant had to be the first victim, so the unsub could've been sloppy," you say cautiously, "but be careful. The unsub might still be watching these parents and they'll probably be hesitant to cooperate." 

"We can handle it," Hotch tells you, "just keep digging, see what else you can find. We'll go out and talk to these families." 

"Will do, keep me in the loop," you say before hanging up. 

You hope the team has luck getting information out of the parents… 

Then, a few hours later, Rossi comes into the meeting room and the first words he utters are, "they won't talk." 

Everyone else files in, with you on a conference call, and you ask, "what do you mean?"

"All three previous cases deny ever receiving a letter," J.J explains, "all we could do was confirm that each of them were missing a finger." 

"Not only that," Prentiss swallows before she breathes out, " _their sons are missing the same finger_." 

"Wait, what?" Garcia seems astonished.

"If we go to the Smiths, we'd probably find the same outcome," Morgan groans, clenching his fists, "they won't talk because they're afraid that their sons may be hurt again. I don't blame them but…"

"We're never going to catch the unsub without their help," Hotch states the obvious.

"At least we confirmed our suspicions," you rub your temples, irritated. 

You understand why these parents may not want to help, but now you're one step behind the unsub again. Somehow, he coerced these families into staying quiet. They're afraid of him, looking over their shoulders, after the abduction is over. 

That's why Mr. Smith was so frantic yesterday. He was scared you weren't the one at the door. 

"It's the news," J.J realizes, letting out a defeated sigh, "they know what the unsub is capable of. That's why they won't talk to us. Since they can't trust the police to keep them safe, how would they ever believe we could?" 

"It doesn't make sense though," Reid chimes in, "how could he keep watch over all of these families after all this time? We swept their houses for bugs, we asked around about suspicious people. If the unsub was in their neighborhood, someone would've seen him." 

You look through the case so far, spreading everything out on the empty floor. 

Then, you think. 

You scanned through all of that surveillance footage but you found no one suspicious. Just like Reid said, if someone looks sketchy, people would've noticed. 

So…what if the unsub is someone _who_ _is meant to be there?_

Who could go around a mall without being perceived as a threat? Who could drive around a neighborhood without raising suspicions?

" _He's a fucking cop_ ," you grit your teeth, angry you didn't think of it before. "I should've realized." 

"Why, what do you mean?" Hotch asks, not able to see your facial expressions. 

"During the first abduction, Grant Matthews is seen talking to a cop an hour before he's abducted," you explain, quickly sending Garcia the clip so she can pull it up for the team, "he had gotten lost and the cop helped him find his parents again. The cop was there for an attempted robbery, which is a common crime during holiday weekends. So on his way out, he helped a lost kid. I didn't think anything of it, since it seemed routine. But now…" 

"It makes sense," Morgan sees the puzzle pieces adding together, "Grant, straying away from his parents again, would've seen the cop as a trusting figure and would've followed him anywhere." 

"This can only increase the parents' distrust in the police," Hotch sighs, "learning this after the fact from their abducted sons."

"That's how he knows if the case has been reported," Prentiss adds, "he would've been on the team to help and would've drowned the kid whenever his shift is over." 

"Garcia, we're going to need to find this cop," Rossi says to her, "before he strikes for the last time." 

"Already too late," J.J sounds as if she's reentered the room, "another child has gone missing, Donnie Summers, reported a few minutes ago. Same mall."

"Do we know where they live?" Hotch inquires. 

"We do now," Garcia states.

"If we time this right, we might be able to catch the unsub as he's delivering the letter," he responds and you hear everyone quickly shuffle out, leaving you with just Garcia left in the room to talk to.

"They'll get him," she tells you and you nod to yourself.

"I'm not worried about that," you reply, looking over at the photos of the dead boys, "I'm worried that when we do find him, he won't tell us where Donnie is." 

Your fear is absolutely right, because the team gets to the Summers home to find the unsub there, letter in hand, in his cop car, and immediately throw him into interrogation. He admits to nothing, claiming that someone else gave him the letter to deliver, and won't talk without a lawyer. 

The letter is enough to issue a warrant to search his apartment but they don't manage to find anything. 

Somewhere, there's a very scared little boy who desperately needs to be saved and there's nothing you can do about it from the confines of your apartment. 

So, you do what you must. 

You get up off your ass and you go to the police station. Hotch is not happy to see you when you walk through the doors. 

"You shouldn't be here," he tells you strictly.

"I can't sit at home and do nothing," you say back, "I need to be present for my skill set to be of use." 

Hotch can't deny that, but he feels uneasy having you here, given what you've just been through. However, he decides that you have already determined that this is where you want to be, so he doesn't stop you.

Instead, he goes, "what do you need?"

"I need his car. You won't find anything in his house, or on him," you explain, "so if he hid something in his car, I'll find it." 

Hotch nods and gestures to one of the officers, who gives you two sets of keys. One for the unsub's personal vehicle, one for his routine patrol car. You quickly drive both cars into a garage, so you don't have to sift through the contents in the pouring rain. 

After an hour of searching, you can't find anything of use.

"Dammit," you huff, wiping the sweat off your brow. "What is this fucker hiding?"

You then pull out your phone, dialing an old friend.

"How's my princess doing?" Joey's voice enters in your ear.

"Hey Joe, I need some help," you say into the phone.

"You alright?" He sounds concerned.

"I'm fine, I'm just on a job," you assert, "and I need your eyes to find what I'm looking for."

Joey agrees to help and you ask him where someone would stash valuables in the specific car model the unsub has, along with a standard police patrol car.

"He probably rigged it himself or else I'd know about it," Joey explains, "but if he's just learning off some shit he watched on YouTube, I'd say you gotta pop the front seat up and there'd be a compartment embedded into the floor of the car. I've seen a lot of cars with that lately."

You listen to his advice and pry the front seat of both cars up. Then, underneath the seat of his patrol car, there's a tiny flap, practically undetectable if you were to reach under the seat blind. You pull it open and… 

"Thanks," you hold in your disgust as you pull out a jar with eight fingers in it, suspended in a preservative solution, "I found what I'm looking for. I'll call you later."

"You better," he then hangs up and you swallow back your vomit. 

So, you have the evidence to put the unsub away, but nothing on where the hell he'd be keeping Donnie. 

You need to talk to the victims. 

You bring the jar back to the station and you get J.J to call all the parents and tell them that the unsub has been caught. 

One by one, they show up with their sons, who can correctly identify that he's the man who took them. 

In a separate room, you sit down with each boy, asking them where he kept them. He had blindfolded all of them prior to taking them to the location. It was a short drive. 

They all describe the location as being dark and wet. It was too small and it was filling up with water. They all said that the water was at their waist before the unsub came back and chopped their fingers off, before tossing them back near their homes. 

"That's why it took so long for Jeremy and Terrence to be found," you choke back more disgust, "he's waiting until the rain drowns them, knowing the parents will never find them in time, then drops their dead bodies in the nearest water source." 

"This just means we have time to save Donnie," Hotch tells you, trying to ease your anxiety, "we can get him to talk. Garcia is canvassing locations that fit the boy's descriptions. Reid and Prentiss are out searching with the police. J.J has released a statement. We will find him." 

"What if we don't?" You put your head in your hand, turning away, not wanting the parents to see you like this, "how can we face the Summers without their son?"

"You have to believe, that's part of the job," he says, not wanting to come off as harsh but he knows he has to be stern right now. 

He can't have you break. 

"Rossi and Morgan are the best interrogators we can hope for in this situation," Hotch reassures you, "they'll get information out of him. I think you should go home and rest now." 

You look over at the clock. It's nearing midnight. You're exhausted but you can't find the will to step away. 

"If I go home, I'm not going to rest, you know that," you turn to him again, "so what can I bring home with me?"

Hotch takes a deep breath, then exhales, saying, "Garcia drew up our unsub's patrol route. I can get you the map. He had to have dropped Donnie off somewhere between the mall and the Summers home."

"I'm on it," you say. 

He gives you what they have so far and you head home. Hotch has a DC police officer drive you back and you look at the map during the ride.

"Do you normally switch off patrols, or do most cops stay the same route?" You ask the officer, turning towards him for a moment. 

_Officer Franz_ , you glance at his name badge. 

You take this sliver of a moment to profile him. He's around your age, handsome, probably gets hit on a lot during his patrols. Most likely went straight into the academy after college. His demeanor is normally cool and collected, but something about this case sets him off. 

He must have a child of his own. 

No wife though, at least not anymore, since he doesn't wear a ring. You can't seem to tell if he's widowed or divorced, not yet. You'll need more information. 

All you do know is that he loves his kid very much and that this career choice must be tough for him. 

He reminds you a lot of Hotch. 

"We each have our routes, occasionally we swap off if someone goes on vacation, but we tend to stick the same patrols," he answers you, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

"Right," you nod, turning back to the paper. 

The drive is quiet for a while and the sound of rain makes you nauseous. You wonder if you'll ever feel comfortable hearing the rain again. 

"You know, I've known him my whole career," the officer's voice catches you by surprise, "to think, he could…"

"Sometimes we don't know the people we work with," you say, "you can't blame yourself for that."

"He met my son," he bites his lip, trying to focus on the road as he speaks, "my son's almost 5. We go to that mall all the time. I can't-I can't imagine…my son would've trusted him too." 

"It's hard not to trust someone in uniform, or someone we know personally," you state, "that's why the first suspects for any crime are the ones closest to us." 

He lets out a tired sigh, saying, "if there's anything I can do to help put that son of a bitch away…" 

"Are you off after this?" You ask and he nods, so you reply, "then the best thing you can do is go home to your son. I'm sure he misses you." 

"Always," the officer smiles lightly at that, "I hate not tucking him at night. Do you have kids?"

"Me? No," you shake your head, "this job doesn't…"

You don't really finish your statement. You can't find the words to finish it, not after what happened today. 

"I get it," he pulls up in front of your building, turning to you, "I love the work I do, but everyday, I think, what am I giving up every time I put on the uniform?"

"You're his hero," you tell him, "to him, you aren't giving up anything. He knows that every second you aren't with him, you're out here, getting the bad guys." 

"You think?" He flips down his visor, pulling out a photo of his son to show you. 

"I know," you say absolutely sure of it, looking at one of the cutest kids you've ever seen. 

"That's Roman," he introduces you to his son, before putting his hand out to shake yours, "and I'm Oliver."

"Nice to meet you," you shake his hand firmly, "I'm Y/N." 

"Call me if you need to ask any more questions," he gives you his card, "I'd be happy to answer."

"Actually, I don't want to keep you from your son but may I ask one more?" 

He nods, gesturing for you to ask away.

"If an officer had to make a stop somewhere that was off his patrol, would they have to report it over comms?" You ask, trying to see if maybe his stop was logged.

"If they're answering a call or investigating a disturbance, yes," Oliver responds, "but I doubt he would've." 

"It was worth a shot," you say, pulling out a business card, "this is my boss's card, but I wrote my number on the back. If you…recall anything he may have told you, something strange or out of place, let me know." 

"I'll see what I can muster up," he replies and you nod, exiting the car. 

But, before you shut the door, you turn to him to say, "ask your son too, if that's okay."

"Whatever it takes to help the case," he answers, "I'll let you know." 

"Thanks," you give him a light smile and then shut the door, running into your lobby before your shoes can get any more wet from the rain. 

You decide to take a shower, washing away all the grime from digging through two cars, and you just try to come up with something useful. 

There's a kid out there, slowly being drowned by the natural forces of the rain. The sound of the rain muffles his screams. The need to keep himself afloat will tire him out eventually. 

You're running out of time. The weather report says the rain is coming down hard. 

For the next few hours, you sit in your living room, typing away at abandoned locations in the surrounding area, crossing off areas the police have already canvassed as they run their sweeps. The rain will make it difficult to search. 

In order to find him, you'd need his exact location. One wrong turn, and you just might miss him. 

Suddenly, your phone rings and you pick it up before checking the caller ID, saying, "hello?" 

"Hey," a familiar voice says, "it's Oliver."

"Oh, hello," you look up at the clock. 

It's 4am, why is he still… 

"In the middle of the night, my son came to me and he told me that he had a dream of Carson," Oliver fills you in, Carson being the unsub, "of a conversation they had once." 

"Alright," you nod into the phone, "tell me what he remembers."

"In the dream, Carson told Roman that there was a park he wanted to take Roman to, but Roman told him that he can only go places with his daddy, never alone." 

"Smart kid," you say, which makes Oliver chuckle.

"I raised him well," he replies, before continuing, "Roman said that Carson told him that the park had the biggest slide he'd ever slide down. It wasn't enough to convince my son to go with him but…maybe that helps?" 

"Is he there?" You ask and Roman says hello, so you then go, "hey buddy. Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure!" He tells you, "anything for the pretty FBI lady."

" _Roman_ ," Oliver groans in the background and you can't help but giggle. 

"Did Carson ever tell you where this park was? Like 'oh, it's just a few blocks from here'?" 

"Yeah, he said that it was just up the street and that I'd be back before daddy even knew I was gone," he replies in his adorable little voice. 

"Thank you so much, Roman," you say sweetly to him.

"Did I help catch the bad guy?" He asks you over the phone.

"More than you know," you say back, "now let me talk to your dad, okay?"

"Okay!" He gives the phone back to Oliver.

"Hey, about what he said-"

"I know I'm pretty," you interject, "but the important thing is: do you remember where you and Roman were when this conversation took place?" 

"Yeah, it was a couple of months ago, I remember because Roman wandered into a candy store and that's where I saw him with Carson. It's called Sugar's, at the strip of boutique stores a mile or two from the mall." 

_In route_ , you look at your map, marking the location on his patrol. 

"Thanks for calling, I think your son may have just saved Donnie," you fax the map over to Garcia with a note attached to it. 

Garcia informs the team of your findings and they immediately disperse a search team, looking into any structures that could be mistaken for a slide. They stumble upon an abandoned city project, put on hold due to funding issues. 

Stuck in one of the pipes is a small boy. 

The fire department comes to assist in pulling him out with minimal injury and he's transported to the hospital for immediate attention.

As Donnie is reunited with his parents, the clouds disperse in the sky, revealing the morning sun that had been hidden beneath the dark storm clouds. 

You watch the sun rise from your apartment, clutching your phone, waiting for an update of any kind. 

Soon, a call comes in and you pick it up without hesitation, relieved to hear Hotch's voice, "we got him." 

You breathe out a steady breath for the first time since the case began and reply, "that was close." 

"Go get some sleep now, we're taking today off, along with the rest of the weekend," he informs you. 

"Will you be…" you begin to say, though you don't know who might be listening.

"Of course," he responds, answering the question on your mind. 

"Looking forward to the weekend then," you tell him before hanging up. 

With a few deep breaths, you lug yourself up to your bed, pulling the covers over you as the need for sleep finally consumes you. You curl up, clutching the sheets, wishing he was here already. 

In your slumber, you feel a pair of arms wrap around you and you wake up for just a moment to see Hotch there beside you. You smile at his sleeping expression, getting closer to him, giving him a quick peck on the lips. Sleepily, he kisses you back, grinning against your lips, then he drifts back into slumber. You rest your face against his chest, listening to his calm heartbeat.

You feel as though everything in the world is okay again.

Even if it's only for this moment… 


	6. Late Night

_One year later…_

You wake up after a long night's rest. You don't remember the last time you slept this much. The sun is creeping in through the window and you look to your side but you don't see anyone.

 _He must have gotten up already_ , you think to yourself. 

You stretch your arms up, pulling yourself into a sitting position. Then, you look down at your hands and see…a ring on your left hand. 

_An engagement ring._

It sparkles in the sun and you lay your hand in the light, loving the way it shines. It looks so beautiful that you can't help but smile. 

Then, the bedroom door opens, filling the room with the light of the hallway, and there he is. 

_Oliver_. 

He's dressed in his police uniform, ready for work. You see that he's carrying Roman's backpack in his hands, probably going to drop him off for school soon. It must be around that time. 

"I figured you'd just woke up, though I'm surprised you managed to sleep with all of Roman's stirring at night. He insists on sleeping beside you now, I'm a bit jealous," he tells you, chuckling. "There's breakfast downstairs whenever you want." 

"You know, I can make my own breakfast, right?" You joke. 

"We both know I make the better pancakes," he rebuttals and you act offended. 

"We'll see about that," you glare at him, getting up from the bed. 

That's when you see it. 

Or well, you feel it first.

The weight of the ankle bracelet around your foot, the red light blinking on and off rhythmically. 

"Just a few more months of house arrest," Oliver notes, "then you'll be free to go. No more living with me." 

You look up at him, confused. Your head begins to hurt and you don't know if it's because the memories are slowly coming back all at once or because you had stopped right in front of the window and the sunlight is burning into your freshly opened eyes. 

When you finally come back to reality, you say back, "I still can't believe you convinced them to let me stay at your house."

"I am your parole officer after all," Oliver states, folding his arms, "and I heard you were quite the escape artist _in jail_. You're lucky they let you off early with house arrest. This was their compromise." 

_Jail_ , the word echoes in your ears. 

That's right. That's where you've been for the past few months. 

_You were in jail._

"If you had to stay in solitary confinement for the last three months of your prison life, you'd want to be an escape artist," you wink, walking past him in the hallway.

"Y/N!" Roman calls out to you and you turn, kneeling down to catch him before he can collide with you, picking him up in your arms. He giggles and goes, "are you coming to drive me to school today?"

You shake your head, answering, "I got to stay home to hold down the fort until you come back."

"You're right," he says with a frown, "the house will be lonely without you."

"And I'll be lonely without you," you give him a big squeeze before setting him back down. "Have a good day at school and remember what I taught you."

"Sneak a juice box back for you," Roman whispers and you give him a high five. 

"Shhh, don't tell your dad, okay?" You put your finger over your lips and Roman crosses his heart. 

"Let's go to school, buddy," Oliver pats Roman's back, before turning to you, saying, "and remember, you can't leave and don't even _think_ about picking the lock on your ankle bracelet."

"Why would I ever leave! You have the best pancakes," you tease and Oliver rolls his eyes. 

You follow them downstairs and they make their way to the garage while you go into the kitchen, seeing a nice plate of pancakes waiting for you. 

"He does make the best pancakes," you smile to yourself, looking around for a fork. 

Then, you hear the doorbell ring.

"I got it!" Oliver says and you hear his footsteps heading towards the door. 

You turn back to your pancakes, but it doesn't last. 

Because the moment you hear his voice, you drop your fork against the tile floor and your heart completely stops. 

"I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner," his powerful voice echoes through the quiet home, "I understand that Y/N is under your watch right now, Officer Franz." 

"She is, but why are you here?" Oliver asks.

Hotch replies, "I need to speak with her, it's urgent."

You swallow, looking around frantically for a way out of this. 

If only you could leave this damn house without your ankle bracelet alerting the entire neighborhood! 

"You realize she doesn't want to see you, right?" Oliver flat out says, aggressively, "couldn't you have sent someone else?"

You let out a sigh, then decide to butt in before both men have an unneeded standoff.

"It's fine, Oliver," you come up behind him, patting him on the shoulder, "Roman will be late for school if you don't head out now. I'll…handle this." 

"You sure?" He looks at you, concerned. 

"I got this, now go," you practically shove him in the direction of the garage. 

"Call me if you need anything," he tells you before leaving. 

You turn back to the front door to see Hotch standing there. He hasn't changed one bit, besides the more tired eyes. Still wearing a crisp, clean suit. Perfectly styled hair. Stoic expression, though his eyes linger on your left hand. 

"You're still wearing it," he comments, knowing you've caught him staring. 

"I paid good money for it, why shouldn't I wear it?" You say back bluntly, crossing your arms at him, asking "so, why are you here, Hotch?" 

"There's a case," he begins to explain but you cut him off.

"I'm not working on any more cases," you grip the door, wanting to slam it right in his face. " _Find someone else_." 

"There is no one else," Hotch asserts, "he's asking for you." 

"Who in their right mind would ever ask for me?" You give him a stone cold glare. 

Hotch hesitates for just a moment and then utters, "Ethan Turner."

The moment Hotch says his name, you shut the door immediately, not wanting to hear another word out of his mouth. 

"Y/N!" He calls out, but you don't listen. 

You just freeze up, clenching your fists tightly.

How could he expect you to speak with…haven't you been through enough?

"He knows the unsub," Hotch's voice manages to still get through the walls of the house and you curse Oliver for not having better soundproofing, "he says he'll give us the name if he can talk to you. Please, I wouldn't be here if we didn't need you." 

You grit your teeth and then forcefully open the door, exclaiming, "why are _you_ here, Hotch? Why didn't you send Emily, or literally anyone else I would've wanted to speak to? Why did it have to be you?"

"I know you don't want to see me after what happened but the rest of the team is working around the clock to stop the unsub's next attack," he explains, "so I'm sorry, but I was the only one we could spare right now."

You look him right in the eye and say, "we both know that's a lie." 

He stares back at you with the coldest glare you've ever seen and replies, "more than a hundred people are dead because of this unsub. We don't know where he'll strike next. We don't know how many more lives will be lost before we can find him. So, if you don't care, _fine_. We'll solve the case without you, but those lives you could've saved, those are on you."

"Don't fucking do that to me," you spit out at him, "you don't have the right to do that to me." 

"You know it's true," he says sternly, "it's your choice whether or not you'll believe it." 

You take a couple of quick breaths, trying to soothe the anger pulsing through your system. Then, you reply, "what's in it for me? I'm not going to do it out of my own good will."

Hotch lets out a huff, then goes, "they'll lift your house arrest and they'll expunge your records. You'll be a free woman again, as if you never went to prison." 

" _Seriously?_ " You look at him with disbelief.

"That's how much they're willing to risk to get this unsub," he responds, before pulling out a key. "So, are you coming with me or not?" 

"How do you know I won't just escape?" You ask him. 

"Because if you wanted to, you would've already," he states the facts. 

"I want to change and then eat my breakfast before we go," you demand and he nods, before kneeling down to unlock your ankle bracelet. 

You invite him into the house, letting him sit at the dining table, and quickly call Oliver while you run upstairs to change, explaining everything. 

"Roman's going to miss you when you go," he tells you over the phone. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, both of you," you say back, "thanks for letting me stay here with you. It was nice." 

"Have you…considered my proposal?" Oliver inquires and you can hear the faint anxiety in his voice.

"I'm still thinking about it," you reply, twisting the ring on your finger nervously, "let me get through this case and I'll make a decision then." 

"Alright, keep in touch," he tells you before hanging up. 

You look at your phone, seeing the last text Oliver sent you. It's of him and Roman. They're at a local amusement park and Roman has a giant cotton candy in his hand with a huge smile on his face.

 _Wish you were here_ is the message attached. 

Then, you read your reply, which says _someday._

You now wonder to yourself if that message was a lie, or that maybe you did one day see yourself with a man like Oliver. 

You had a lot of time to think in your solitary confinement. It's easy to think when that's really the only thing you could do while trapped in four walls all by yourself. 

Though, you didn't spend any of that time thinking about Hotch. 

You tried _so hard_ not to think about him because every time you did, you felt yourself curl up with regret. 

There's so many things you regret. 

_Like leaving him_ , you bite your lip as your mind races to forget what happened all those months ago. 

You quickly get some clothes on and pack a light go bag, knowing that wherever you're going, you might need to stay overnight. There was enough for you to worry about, but staying a night near Hotch definitely started to climb that list. 

When you come back downstairs, you see Hotch still sitting at the dining table, his ear pressed against his phone. It sounds like he's talking to Rossi. It must be an update on the case. 

"Yeah, she agreed," he tells him over the phone, "we're heading to Colorado soon. Hopefully he'll talk today. I'll let you know once we have a name, bye." 

Once the conversation is over, Hotch looks up at you and you're in the kitchen, reheating your plate of pancakes in the microwave, washing the fork you dropped along with the other dishes that were leftover. 

"How long have you been under house arrest?" He asks you and you scoff.

"You act like you don't know the answer to that," you roll your eyes, setting the washed plates in the drying rack.

"I meant here, in your parole officer's house," Hotch clarifies, a tint of irritation in his voice. 

"About two months. Since I ended the lease on the apartment," you wipe your hands clean as the microwave goes off, your food ready and warm again. 

You take the plate and set it on the kitchen counter, eating it there instead of near Hotch, though you can't avoid his intense stare. 

The pancakes taste amazing, as they always do, but you can't seem to enjoy them with all the tension in the air. You opt to just eat them as quickly as you can, looking away from him as you do. 

Your meal is over fairly soon after and now you're stuck on a flight with Hotch. Neither of you speak the entire time, from the airport to the supermax prison that Ethan is being held in. 

At the prison, Hotch flashes his badge and you both receive visitor badges. You watch as he lets them take his guns away and you shiver at the thought of not being armed. 

Then, you are both escorted to an interview room with several armed guards, posted at each corner of the room, with a chained up Ethan sitting down. They've cuffed him pretty much from head to toe in restraints you've never seen before, ones specially made for these kinds of prisoners. 

"To think, they actually got you to show up," he says when you sit across from him next to Hotch, "I heard you were in prison too." 

"They offered to expunge my record," you reply back, "so only one of us is a criminal now."

He laughs, before giving you a deadly glare, "we both know you'll always be a criminal."

"Not legally," you glare back at him then ask, "why did you ask for me?"

Ethan smiles, but not a kind one. It's that sadistic one that made the hair in the back of your neck stand straight up. You try not to let it get to you, your poker face holding up against him.

Then, he answers your burning question, but his eyes are on Hotch, his grin piercing through, "because he said you'd be living your life filled with love and happiness and I'd be the one watching from iron bars. And yet, where did you end up after you caught me? The exact same place I am right now. _I guess you don't deserve to be happy, either_."

The last line gets you, but only because you don't think Ethan is talking to you. His eyes are on Hotch's and you can tell that Hotch is gritting his teeth beneath that stone cold glare of his. 

"We brought her to you, now tell us who our unsub is," Hotch demands, tired of playing into Ethan's game.

The smile never leaves his face as he goes, "why so eager to leave now? Am I right?" 

You then let out a chuckle all of a sudden, making Ethan turn towards you. 

When you've gotten his full attention, you simply say, "you act as if prison stopped me from being happy, when that's far from the truth."

With a simple flick of the wrist, you reveal your left hand, which you had been hiding in your sweatshirt pocket the entire time you've been here, showing off your engagement ring. It shines brightly in the fluorescent lights of the room. 

"What are you doing?" Hotch turns to you, though his eyes tell you that he knows your play, so he acts along with it, "I thought I told you not to wear it."

"Ethan wants to see if I'm living my best life, so I thought I'd give him a show," you face Hotch when you say that and then you reach forward, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Your lips melt against his and you try your best to not let it linger, but he grabs a hold of your face, prolonging the kiss. Hotch kisses you with a passion that you're almost sure was visibly palpable, given the way all the guards have turned their heads away from you two. 

"Enough," Ethan spits out, making Hotch move away from you finally. 

You heave slightly, being completely out of breath, your eyes still locked on his. Then, you turn away, looking over at Ethan, saying, "do you want me to keep going? I can fuck him right here until you tell us who we're looking for. I don't mind." 

Your words are harsh and they cut through Ethan like a blade. He glares back at you then responds, "we both know that old man couldn't give you half of what I gave you in bed."

Hotch opens his mouth to say something but you interject before he can, challenging him, "want to find out?" 

You match Ethan's glare and he knows you won't break. There's a standstill for a while. He refuses to talk. You all sit in silence. 

Then, he finally utters the words, "the man you're looking for was a member of the arson terrorist organization I was undercover for. He went rogue, said things were going too slow and that he wanted a quicker solution. I assume he found that, didn't he, if the B.A.U is here, investigating?"

You don't answer, knowing that any reaction will only waste your time. 

Ethan continues, saying, "he won't stop until he's gotten his message through. He doesn't care who needs to die."

"Just tell us who he is," Hotch lets out, tired of all this fluff. 

Ethan seems irritated, but eventually, he decides to comply. 

"I only know his alias," Ethan responds, "we never went by our real names. He called himself Adrian Nester. That's all I know."

Hotch then gets up and the guards open the doors for him. He pulls out his phone to call the team, to give off the alias to see if there's any hits, leaving you alone with Ethan for just a brief moment. 

"You don't love him, do you?" Ethan stares right through you as he asks that. "You don't even know what love is anymore. I took that from you, didn't I?"

"You wish," you reply back.

"Just be honest with me, Y/N," he leans in as far as his chains will let him to breathe out, "you're incapable of love. It's because you know you don't deserve it. No matter who loves you, you will always doubt it. _All because of me._ "

"We're done here," Hotch says as he reenters the room, "Reid rearranged the alias and found our unsub, Darian Ernest. They're on their way to catching him right now. It's over, let's go."

You get up from the table and Ethan smiles that keen grin of his, knowing deep down inside that he's right. 

But, today, you won't give him the satisfaction, pulling out a slip of paper from your pocket, setting it down in front of him.

Then, you point at it and say, "I'm pregnant. This child, right here, in the ultrasound, is a product of love. Something you'll never have because you're going to be rotting in your cell until the day you die."

He stares at the paper in disbelief, but you can see it in his eyes that he's wavering. 

"You told me you couldn't have kids," Ethan asserts rather angrily.

"I guess I'm a good liar," you tell him straight to his face before snatching the paper back, leaving him with that. 

You and Hotch walk silently down the sterile prison hallway, until you come up to a trash can at the entrance of the prison. There, you toss the papers away, letting out a sigh. 

Then, when you and Hotch get back into the car, you sit in the back and say, "I'm not pregnant, if that's what you're wondering."

You look at his eyes staring back at you in the rearview mirror but he doesn't answer you. You take that as you must and turn to look out the window. 

It's dark already and it would be a long trip to the airport from here. 

Your phone then rings so you pick it up, saying, "hey Oliver, how are you?"

"I just saw the news," he tells you happily, "they caught him, thanks to you."

"Don't go stroking my ego now," you tease, making him laugh. 

"So, you're a free woman," Oliver notes and you nod into the phone, "what are you going to do now?"

"I have no idea," you say, "endless possibilities." 

"How about we finally go on that date?" Oliver asks, his confidence masking his nervousness. 

"I said I'd think about it, didn't I?" You chuckle. 

"Have you given it any thought?" You can hear him clench his teeth on the line. 

"I just spent the day with the guy who kidnapped me and tried to kill me," you reply, "I haven't had much time to think about anything else." 

"Right, right, I'm so sorry," Oliver apologizes. "I just-"

"It's alright, I'll give you an answer when I get back, I promise," you respond, smiling into the phone. "So you better think of a nice place to take me, okay?" 

You can almost feel Oliver's smile through the phone as he goes, "I'll find a really great place." 

"Can I come too!" Roman's voice peaks on the line. 

"Maybe next time, kiddo," Oliver can't help but chuckle. 

You grin, saying to Roman, "I miss you." 

"I miss you too!" Roman tells you, "please come home soon." 

"I will. I can't wait to see you," you reply, "I should go now. The signal is going to be patchy until I get to the airport."

"I love you!" Roman exclaims into the phone, making Oliver groan in the back, and you can barely hold in your smile because of how cute he is.

"I love you too," you say sweetly back to him, "I'll call you when I land, bye."

You hang up the phone, watching as the signal completely cuts out, sighing. You sift through all the photos Oliver has sent you over the past two months. 

He's a really great guy. He can cook, clean, take care of a kid all on his own while working as a cop. 

Ever since he got handed your house arrest, he's been able to work a 9-5 shift, which means he can see Roman more often. He's so thankful for that, though you always tease him for wanting you to be on house arrest. He makes up for it over pancakes, always. 

He's a gentleman, through and through. He's never once made a pass at you since you've been living there. He respects the boundaries you've set. 

You told him you would consider dating him when you were no longer under arrest. To think, that time would come so much sooner than you thought. 

Oliver is a good match for you and you loved Roman. You could stay home, live off your inheritance, drive Roman to school then pick him up. You can keep helping him with his homework, while teaching him some pickpocketing skills on the down low. He's gotten so good at swiping an extra juice box for you. 

So, why don't you? 

You look up at Hotch, who has seemingly been staring at the road this entire time, but you know he's been stealing glances back at you. The more you stare at him, the more you can't help but think about the way his lips felt against yours earlier. 

The longing, the need, all those emotions that he didn't dare to let slip out. 

That is, until you see him pull over onto the side of the road. Your eyes widen as you look around. 

It's the parking lot for a state park. 

There's no one else here, presumably because it's so late. No one would be crazy enough to hike right now. 

Then, you hear him open his door, shutting it behind him. 

You call out to him, "Hotch? Where are you going?" 

Though, you should've known the answer to that question the moment he opened the back door, climbing into the seat next to you, before pulling your body right up to his. You barely hear him shut the door behind him as his lips completely take over yours. 

You're stunned, surprised, completely taken back by his actions right now.

You quickly pull away from him, saying, "what are you doing!"

"You don't love him," Hotch states outright, "why can't you stop lying to the people closest to you?"

You blink, confused, but then you realize Hotch thought you said I love you to Oliver. He towers over you, with one hand pressed against the window, the other on the back of your seat, keeping you locked in. 

"I'm not doing this, Hotch," you shake your head, saying, "I left you for a reason."

"You're really nothing but a liar, aren't you?" His words hitting your lips, he was _that_ close to you.

 _Fuck_ , you breathe in that familiar scent of hotel shampoo and aftershave and you can feel the year you used to erase Hotch from your mind completely wash away in an instant. 

"Why can't you admit that you never wanted to leave me?" He asserts, his body coming closer and closer to yours, filling all your senses with the feeling of him, "just tell me the truth." 

"You want the truth?" You bite your lip as his eyes look up and down your body, but you stop yourself from getting distracted by saying, "I left you because you're suffocating and demanding. I want nothing to do with you." 

"Stop lying," he holds his ground, seeing through your words. 

You need to put a stop to this, before you do something you can't let happen. 

"Maybe I'm not the one lying," you spit out, looking fiercely at him, "maybe you just don't want to believe." 

Then, Hotch grabs your hand, showing you the ring you're wearing, saying, "why would you still be wearing this if you didn't love me?"

"I told you, I paid good money for it," you yank your hand away from him. 

"That's not an acceptable answer," he marks rather sternly. 

"Nothing is ever acceptable for you," you turn away from him, tired of all this. "Get off me, Hotch. It's over. _It's been over_."

"Is it?" He looks at you with cold eyes as he moves one of his hands to your side, feeling up your bare skin. 

You gasp, biting your lip, trying to stop the wave of memories from flooding your mind. 

"You still remember what it feels like to be touched by me," his hand comes up and undoes your bra in an instant, "and you miss it."

" _I don't_ ," you lie through your teeth as his hand makes its way to your breast, grabbing a firm hold of it. 

The car is getting colder, since he turned it off, taking away the heater with it, so your nipples are hard and his thumb rubs gentle circles around it, making you fight back a moan. His hand is warm against your cold chest and you hate the way he makes you feel. 

You hate the way you love it. 

You hate the way you want him. 

"What if I move my hand somewhere else?" He says right into your ear as his hand slides down your stomach and slips into your pants. You want to stop him, but at the same time, you don't. 

He's right, you do miss his touch.

Because the moment you hear his finger slide up and down your core, you can't hide it anymore. You're too wet already. 

"What's the truth, Y/N?" He asks as his finger begins to rub your clit, your breath getting caught in your throat as he does. 

You don't answer. Instead, you focus all your energy on not giving him the moan he's trying to get out of you. 

"You're saying one thing," he whispers before thrusting a finger inside of you all of a sudden, forcing you to moan against his lips, "but your body doesn't lie."

You feel him slip another finger inside of you, stretching you out, making you grip onto him with your hands to keep yourself steady. You haven't been touched since the last time you were with him. He fills you up so much and you can barely take it. 

"If you want me to stop, just tell me," he says, but he keeps fucking you with his fingers as he goes, "tell me you don't want me." 

You swallow back your breaths, not wanting to show him how good it feels, but the way your body shakes says everything. You can feel your climax coming closer and closer and you grip onto him harder, your hips starting to move with the rhythm of his hand. 

Then, he completely slips out of you, making you gasp for air, whimpering at the loss. You shiver against him, your hips still grinding, desperate to find that orgasm you were just deprived of. 

"Tell me you want me," he places his hand on your thigh, stopping you from moving, "and I'll give it to you." 

You stare back at him, breathless. You try to read his eyes but you don't even know what you see in them. 

You can only assume it's a mix of anger, lust, heartbreak, longing and sadness. 

All the same feelings you've been going through ever since you left him. 

Your eyes tell him the exact same story and he knows it. 

So, you give him what he wants. You give yourself what you've wanted all along. 

You pull Hotch in for a kiss, wrapping your hand around his tie, wanting to feel him against you. He kisses you back furiously as he takes off your sweatshirt and bra. You unbutton his shirt, shedding his suit jacket aside with your clothes, then you undo his tie so you can feel his bare chest against yours. 

Your hands roam his back, holding him close to you as his tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss. 

You both kiss like your lives depended on it, unable to break away. You need the feeling of his lips against yours. You couldn't get enough and neither could he. 

Hotch's hand slips back into your pants and you gasp against his lips as his fingers make their way back inside of you. He holds your lips captive, not letting you go as he curls his fingers inside of you just the way you like it. You don't keep your moans in anymore. You can't. You let them spill out. 

"I know you're close," he says when he breaks away from your lips momentarily, keeping his pace steady with his fingers, "just tell me you want me, Y/N."

"I want you, Aaron," you tell him as your eyes meet his, filled with need, " _please_." 

"It's good to hear the truth from you finally," Hotch replies before his lips fall onto yours again, his fingers having their way with you. 

You climax so hard that you feel yourself spill out onto his fingers, shaking all over. He continues thrusting inside of you, forcing you to ride out the orgasm against him. The feelings of pleasure consume you and you lean your head against his shoulder, breathing heavy. 

He pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean, before propping all the seats back, laying you down flat. You feel him take off your pants and underwear and you know exactly what's coming next. 

You bite your lip as he leans down with his head between your legs, his tongue pressing against your core. You hear how wet you are when his tongue runs up and down before settling at your clit. 

It's warm and familiar.

You run your hand through his hair, holding him against you, wanting nothing more than for this feeling to last forever. He knows exactly how to make you cum with just his tongue and you do, writhing against him once again. 

Your heavy breaths fill the car and you're no longer cold anymore. Your skin is on fire and all you want is him inside of you. 

Hotch unbuckles his belt and pants, sitting down next to you, pulling his length out. He looks at you intently as he runs his hand up and down his shaft. 

You sit up, turning towards him, saying, "how do you want me?"

"Like this," he pulls you onto his lap so that your back is against his chest, as he fills you up from behind with complete ease. You grip the car seat in front of you as Hotch props the seat back up behind him, leaning back, letting you do all the work. 

You shift so your feet touch the floor of the car, making it easier for you to ride him. Your hips find a pace that makes you go absolutely wild, feeling how deep he fills you up. 

You didn't think, after all this time, you could still take him, but it's as if your body molded to his. He hits just the right spot with every thrust and you moan into your hand as you orgasm again, leaning your head against the seat in front of you, shivering at the intense pleasure running through your body. 

When your breaths steady again, Hotch takes a hold of your hips, fucking you at his pace now. He wraps his arm around you, holding you against his chest, which changes how he fills you up. 

You tighten up around him, feeling your next climax coming much sooner than you expected. His hand makes its way up to your chest with his lips against your neck and you completely unravel at all the stimulation. 

Then, you feel Hotch spill into you, his warmth consuming you. He grunts, breathing heavily against your shoulder, kissing you here and there, his hands still roaming your body, holding you tightly.

You pull yourself off him a few moments later, stopping yourself from reacting to the emptiness, as you grab your clothes, saying, "we're going to be late for our flight." 

"I picked a later one for a reason," Hotch replies, buckling his pants back up and buttoning his shirt. 

When your clothes are back on, you see his tie on the floor, so you pick it up, turning towards him. Hotch puts his hand out to take it from you, but instead, you wrap it around his collar, tying it for him. 

"All this time and you still tie your tie the same," you say with a chuckle, "are you always going to be this boring?"

You finish your elegant Eldredge knot, buttoning his suit jacket up and tucking the tie in for him. 

You then feel Hotch's hand against your cheek, making you look back into his eyes. They're filled with remorse. 

"I shouldn't have let you go," he confesses, "I should've never…" 

"Hotch, I'm the one who left," you reply, trying not to sink into the warmth of his hand, "there was nothing you could've done." 

"I could've stopped you," he says back. 

You shake your head, stating, "I had to do it." 

"Why?" Hotch looks at you for an answer to the question he's been trying to wrap his mind around all this time, "why did you have to turn yourself in?" 

"It's complicated," you admit, "that's why I left the way I did. It's…not worth knowing. It's not worth dragging you into my mess." 

"I want to know," he pleads, " _I need to know the truth_." 

"Hotch, please," you take a hold of his hands, saying, "I'm not worth the pain you're putting yourself through. Let me go."

"I can't," he tells you, "not like this. Not without knowing why."

You let out a sigh. You thought that all this time apart would give him the space to move on, to forget about you, but obviously, he has had the same luck you've had on that front. 

"I'll tell you everything," you agree, nodding your head, "but only if you promise me that when we land back in Virginia, that this is the end of us. I can't be with you, Hotch, at least not in the way we thought we could be." 

_You deserve better_ , is what you want to tell him, but you know he'd never agree. 

"If we continue any kind of relationship, it needs to stay physical, completely," you assert. "I can't give you anything more than that." 

Hotch goes quiet for a moment, thinking. You try to read his eyes as he thinks but you can't decipher anything from it. 

Then, he goes, "I understand, so tell me what really happened. Where did it all go wrong?" 

Now, that was a good question. 

Where did it all go wrong? 

You should probably start at the beginning, with the case that would ruin everything… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think this was a happy story? No sir, this is an ANGST fic, so prepare to get H U R T.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @ [alice-rambles.tumblr.com](http://alice-rambles.tumblr.com)! I don't have any other social media, so if you want to chat/ask me anything, send me an ask on there!


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